


Friend of Mine

by youreyestheyglow



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, College AU, Fluff, Housemates AU, It's completed technically so don't worry about this being abandoned, M/M, Pining, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-02
Updated: 2016-06-28
Packaged: 2018-07-11 21:04:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 60,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7070113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youreyestheyglow/pseuds/youreyestheyglow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kenma and Kuroo are both absolutely in love, and both being absolutely idiotic about it, and Bokuto is determined to fix this state of affairs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Kenma

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is complete - I'm just editing the final few chapters, and 15 emails is a lot for my subscribers to receive at once, so I'm uploading one chapter at a time, probably one every other day or so. If I ever miss a day or two, it's because work is trying to kill me.
> 
> Also, this fic alternates POV - Kenma narrates the odd-numbered chapters, and Kuroo narrates the even-numbered chapters.

His scent is everywhere. I’m in his bed. Under his body. I huff. My face is buried in his neck. I inhale sharply. I can smell him. He lets out a truncated little whine, and I’m proud: he’d made that noise before, when he was masturbating and didn’t realize I was in the apartment, but now he’s making it for me. He laughs when I moan, a breathless chuckle that turns into a whimper when I clench around him. He’s warm, so warm, he’s always warm but now he’s hot. I wrap my arms around him, but it feels like I’m wrapped in him – even the skin that isn’t touching his is warm. I press my hips against him, but he won’t fuck me, refuses to fuck me, even when I beg, _Kuro, Kuro_ –

“Kenma?”

I am intensely uncomfortable.

Not that that’s new, honestly. Discomfort that’s localized to my penis, though, is – also not new. Honestly.

I blink at Kuroo as he appears in my field of vision, bent over with his head twisted at an awkward angle so he can see under my hair. “You awake?”

“Mmmbm.” Those were meant to be actual words.

He ruffles my hair. “I need my jacket, and then you can go back to sleep.”

What do I have to do with his jacket?

I’m wearing his jacket.

I struggle.

“Wanna sit up, maybe?”

I glare at him. Of course I don’t want to sit up. I only got back to bed an hour ago. Every muscle in my body knows I went to volleyball practice this morning, and they’re all pissed about it. Why would I want to sit up?

I can see it in his face when he gives up. His eyes get softer. He bumps his forehead against mine. “Keep it, I’ll steal one of Bokuto’s.” He tugs the sheets up to my ears and straightens up.

My stomach flips as I look up at him. He looks so tall, so powerful, so capable from down here. He – I love him. And I’m too tired for that to make my heart hurt. I close my eyes.

I feel the warmth of his hand on my head for a moment.

When I wake up again, he’s long gone, and Koutarou is sitting on my bed.

“…third time this week, doesn’t he have more than one jacket? Is it just an excuse for him to wear my jacket?” He pauses. “Do you think seeing him in my jacket makes Akaashi jealous?”

The answer is no. Everyone knows Kuro and Koutarou are friends, not boyfriends. Being jealous of Kuroo for hanging out with Koutarou would be a little bit like being jealous of Alisa for hanging out with Lev: fucking ridiculous.

Koutarou smacks the bed, and I jump. “I’m gonna do it! Today! I’m gonna ask him out today! Thanks, Kenma!” He jumps up and punches the air. “Hey hey _hey_! I’m feeling good about this! He’s gonna say yes!”

He exits the room.

I could, theoretically, go back to sleep. But if Koutarou’s awake and his hair is done and he’s started working himself up to ask out Keiji, it must be pretty late, and my first class is at 1.

I sigh and lift myself up. The only good thing about volleyball is that it gives me the strength to lift myself out of bed in the morning, sort of. Then again, the clock says 12:04, so it’s really not morning anymore.

I don’t bother glancing in the mirror. All I have to do is run my fingers through my hair and it lies flatter than hair should, and all the mirror would tell me is that I’ve gotta dye my roots, which I already know. So between that and my usual morning routine of brushing my teeth in the kitchen sink while Koutarou presents me with food, it only actually takes me twenty minutes to get ready, leaving me with sixteen minutes to dawdle. I could’ve gone back to sleep for a few minutes.

“Are you staying in tonight?”

I shake my head. “I promised Shoyo I’d visit him.”

He huffs, and when I glance up he’s got his fists on his hips. “And Kuroo said he’s going to a concert with Tsukki tonight. So what am I supposed to do?”

My stomach twists. Going to a concert with Tsukki. Of course he’s going with Tsukki. It doesn’t even matter to me, I won’t even be here tonight, why do I care?

I glare at my phone screen. Kei’s tall and bored and ironic and he likes the same exact music as Kuro and he’s cute, even I can see that, and he actually looks up from his phone every so often, unlike me, so I really can’t blame Kuroo for falling for him. I just wish I’d gone to another college so I didn’t have to watch it happen. Maybe one in Europe. Or America. Or Antarctica. Or the bottom of the Arctic Ocean. Yeah, the bottom of an ocean would be good – it’s hard to have an empty, aching heart when fish have already eaten it.

I sigh.

“Kenma?”

“Mm?”

“What am I supposed to do tonight?”

“Stay with Keiji.”

“Great idea! I’ve got homework, though.”

“Then do your homework.”

“I wanna hang out with Akaashi, though.”

“Bring your homework to Keiji’s. He’s probably got homework, too.”

“You’re a genius!”

“You’re the biochem major.”

“Biochem, shmiochem. You’re the one who knows about life!”

“Thanks.”

“Of course!”

I swing my bag over my shoulder and follow Koutarou out to the car. He talks at me. I make a valiant effort to not hate Kei. He really doesn’t deserve it, I don’t think.

Then again, maybe he does. It would be mean of him, to throw over Tadashi for Kuroo. That would be worth hating. If he doesn’t, though, Kuroo will be unhappy, and I’d hate him for making Kuroo unhappy, too. Unless they become a triple? Then there would be no reason to hate Kei, except for the fact that it would mean I can’t pretend I’ve even got a chance anymore. I can’t get Kuro back from that. And I wouldn’t want to, I guess, if he were happy.

Would it be better to see him happily dating someone else, or sadly pining after someone else? I shouldn’t be selfish. The answer should be obvious.

Not that it matters. It’s not like I’m going to get involved.

My phone buzzes – two short buzzes, Shoyo’s ringtone – as I near my classroom. He’s always had good timing. Well, that’s a lie, but he’s got good timing today. Any excuse to not be looking up when I walk into class is a good one.

_You’re coming over tonight right??_

God, I hate leaving the apartment.

I could say no. If he’s checking, I can still back out.

But I like Shoyo, and I don’t want to be alone in the apartment tonight, not if Kuro is with Kei.

_Yeah._

He texts back instantly – he’s one of _those_ people.

_Can’t wait!!!_

Cool.

The prof begins roll call like he’s been preparing for this day his whole life, but that’s okay, I like his class, so I won’t judge. This class is fun – it’s one of my music classes. One of many. I think I’ve taken more music classes than computer programming classes, and programming is my major. My professor freshman year took us to a symphony, Mozart’s Jupiter, and it – it was pretty cool. I didn’t move once in the entire half-hour concert. My fingers didn’t itch for my Nintendo DS. For half an hour I did nothing but sit there and listen to music and I didn’t care, and I wasn’t dissociating. I told Kuro and he told me to take another music class. I’ve got three this semester.

Does Kei ever take his advice? Does he ever give Kei advice?

Christ.

I push Kuroo and Tsukki out of my mind and listen to the clip my prof is playing. He turns up the volume so we can hear it, even all the way in the back. How kind of him.


	2. Kuroo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is really short and I don't know why, so I'm uploading two tonight to make up for it

Why are all the lights off?

I mean, Bokuto told me he was going over Akaashi’s, but Kenma should –

Wait.

I’m an idiot. I made plans with Tsukki in the first place because I knew Kenma wouldn’t be home. He’s at Hinata’s. He’s driving an hour to a different school so he can go visit Hinata. He doesn’t even fucking _like_ driving, and cited it – often – as the reason why he wouldn’t come visit me as much as he could’ve, and here he is, driving for an entire _hour_ for _Shoyo_. With whom he’s on a first-name basis.

I huff.

What does he think is gonna happen? Hinata isn’t gonna break up with his cute, angry, perfect-setter boyfriend for him. Does he think he can get in on that? Does Kageyama even _like_ him? I know Kageyama was impressed with Kenma’s abilities, but of course he was, why wouldn’t he be? Shit, he was impressed with Oikawa’s, too, and look, they hate each other. Does Kenma think it can be one of those ones where both he and Kageyama are dating Hinata, but they’re not dating each other? I get the feeling Kageyama wouldn’t like that. Therefore: Kenma will never get anywhere with Shoyo. Of course, that’ll make him sad, which is bad. So Hinata gets to decide whether it’s _me_ in hell, or _Kenma_ in hell, and either way, I’m not happy with the outcome.

Ugh.

Hinata Shoyo can suck my dick.

Actually, no, he can’t, I don’t want that. He can…?

_What’s a good way to tell someone to fuck off if you don’t want to tell them to suck your dick?_

I wait, phone in hand, for Bokuto’s response.

 _Say: “fuck off_ ”

_But, like, more imaginatively. I wanna make people stop and stand in shock_

_Is shit going down? Should I beat someone up? I can bring Akaashi, he probably wouldn’t mind helping_

_Nothing’s going on, not really, and for future reference, Akaashi will absolutely stop you from beating someone up. Don’t bring him to a fight. Back to the question: what can replace a good old-fashioned smd?_

_Suck my clit?_

_I don’t have one_

_Gimme a sec, I’ll ask Akaashi_

I wait. I can be patient. My mom sends me a video of Belle, her cat. It helps pass the time.

_He says to, ahem, “inform the person in question that they have offended you, and that you no longer wish to continue your acquaintance. Alternatively, attempt to come to a compromise.” But that’s bullshit ‘cause he’s told me to suck his dick like fifteen times, so ignore him. My suggestion: “eat my shit.”_

Should I tell Bokuto to blow Akaashi? Nah, I’m not doing Akaashi’s dirty work for him. If he wants to wait this long for Bokuto to ask him out, who am I to hurry things along? _Oooooh, like in that one movie? The Help?_

_Yeah!!! Dude that woman was my role model, it’s my dream to someday bake my own shit into a pie_

_Remind me to never let you cook again_

_Ok, you can cook your own breakfasts from now on!!_

_I lied. Please keep cooking breakfast Kenma will slaughter me if I take away pancakes_

_All right :)_ _Akaashi says if I keep texting I can’t study with him anymore so I’m gonna go, have fun with Tsukki, stay safe, I love you_

_Study hard, I also love you_

I slide my phone into my pocket. “Eat my shit, Hinata Shoyo!”

Ugh. It’s not as satisfying without him here. Then again, I don’t _really_ want him to eat my shit. I kinda like the kid, really. He’s a good person, and I know he’s good for Kenma. I’m just tired of the chasm where my heart used to be.

Which is _exactly_ why I wanted to go with Tsukki tonight.

Goddamn. I planned this really well. It’s almost like I’m related to myself. Ha. I’m hilarious. Where’s Bokuto? I need him to laugh at my jokes and validate me.

Anyway.

What band are we going to see tonight? Do I have one of their shirts already? Have I ever heard one of their songs? Do I have any idea who they are? Ah well, it’s not a fuckin’ crime to wear the wrong band’s shirt to a concert. I throw on the first one I grab. Any band shirt is better than a non-band shirt.

I meet Tsukki outside. He’s driving us there. How a freshman got a car on campus, I don’t know and won’t ask.

He glances at me when I get in the car. “Nice. Didn’t realize you already had one of their shirts.”

I fight the urge to look down. That’s tantamount to saying _I have no idea what we’re going to see because I’m only here so I won’t spend all night crying over my crush_. “Perks of being a devout concert goer with money to spare.”

He turns up the volume. “Figured there’s no point in listening to their music, not when we’re about to spend three hours listening to it. Unless you care?”

“Nope.” I don’t know what shirt I’m wearing and we’re not listening to their music. I have no friggin idea who we’re going to see. I must like them, if I’ve got one of their shirts, unless I bought it ironically? What if I agreed to see a shitty band just so I wouldn’t have to think about Kenma?

Kenma, who willingly _drove_ to spend most of the night in a _dorm room_ just so he could see Hinata.

Who fucking cares if the band is shitty? It’s the experience that matters. I turn up the volume a little louder.


	3. Kenma

I plug my iPod in and hit play.

And then I hit next. It’s the song that was playing in the Snapchat Kuroo sent me. He was drunk. With Tsukki. I don’t think Kei was drinking – he was driving, he’d _better_ not have been drinking – but still. Drunk and with Tsukki and having fun.

I turn the volume up.

Time to think better thoughts. Shoyo is good. It was good to see him.

When I walked in, he kissed Tobio goodbye.

I wish I could kiss Kuro goodbye.

I glare through my windshield.

Even Shoyo could tell something was wrong, and he’s about as perceptive as a rock, outside of volleyball. Of course, he wormed it out of me – not that he had to try very hard – but his advice was useless: “ _Why don’t you just tell him? I think if you just tell him it’ll be okay.”_

 _“But he likes Kei_.”

Shoyo had stared at me for so long I’d started worrying that I’d gotten the name wrong. _“Tsukishima? I don’t think so. And Tsukishima’s dating Yamaguchi._ ”

_“That doesn’t mean Kuro can’t like him. Or that he won’t try – something. Or that Kei can’t stop dating Tadashi.”_

_“If Kuroo knows you like him, maybe he’ll – um – stop – pining over Tsukishima, if that’s what he’s doing. Maybe he won’t try anything.”_

_“I don’t want to hold him back.”_

_“You want him to make a choice without knowing all his options?”_

_“I don’t want to just be an option.”_

He’d started trying to explain why that didn’t matter, but he got mixed up, gave in, looked me in the eye with the same intensity he uses when he’s playing volleyball and said: _“Kenma, just tell him. Really. Do it.”_

I hunch over my steering wheel. I’d tell him if I thought it would change anything, but I know what’ll happen. He’ll just – look at me. He won’t even know what to do. His best friend confessing to him? Totally outside his realm of experience. He’d play it off as a joke, maybe, just to spare me the embarrassment. And then things would go on as usual, except he’d be a little more reticent about touching me or sitting next to me, and my heart would hurt forever, because there wouldn’t even be any hope left.

I sigh.

Somehow, by the time I get back home, my music is so loud it’s a little bit deafening.

All the lights are off, so I creep inside, looking for evidence of life. Are Koutarou and Kuro still out, or are they both asleep? Koutarou should be back – if he messes up his sleep schedule, his medication doesn’t work so well. I tiptoe to his room and open the door and – yep, there he is, a spread-eagled lump under three blankets. Keiji never lets him stay out too late.

I head over to Kuroo’s room.

How does he keep the floor so _clean_? I’ve never managed to keep anything clean in my entire life, up to and including my game collection.

But he’s not in bed.

He’s still with Kei.

I sigh.

The front door creaks open and I jump out of Kuroo’s room just in time for Kuro himself to look up at see me standing in front of his doorway.

Very good.

“I didn’t wanna shut off all the lights without making sure everyone was home,” I explain in a whisper.

“Is Bokuto home?” He asks at a volume that’s trying and failing to be a whisper.

I put my finger to my lips and head towards him. Maybe he’ll quiet down if he knows I’m close enough to hear him. “Yeah, and he’s asleep.”

He nods.

He steps towards me, much more steadily than I’d have expected. I watch him and wait. He’ll speak.

He extends his hand towards me, and I stare at it, frozen. I want to reach out and take it, and kiss his palm, and –

He lets it drop, wheels around, and falls face-first over the back of the couch.

I sigh. He’s the reason why that side of the couch is sloped instead of comfortable.

“Please don’t puke,” I murmur as I sit down next to him. Or, next to his face, really.

“Hnnngggg.”

I wait.

He’s not speaking.

Normally, I’d wait until he spoke first, however long it took, but I’m tired. And a little teensy tiny bit jealous and unwilling to sit here until I do something stupid, like rip my heart out and hand it to him. “How was The National?”

His head twitches towards me, mouth pulling away from the cushion so I can hear him. “Di’nt see them, why?”

Oh. “That’s what’s on your shirt.”

“Shiiiit. Really?”

“Mmhmm.”

He drops his face back down and grumbles. He forgets things when he’s drunk. “I can’t understand you when you speak to the couch,” I remind him.

He lifts himself up, biceps bulging, and performs what I named The Kuro Maneuver: he pulls his upper body forward and his knees into his chest, somehow ending with his knees on the couch instead of his head on the floor. I’ve seen him do it hundreds of times and it still makes no sense, especially since he’s drunk. But he swings his legs around and he’s sitting upright, and he’s leaning over and putting his head in my lap.

I hold my breath as he squirms around until he’s on his back, looking up at me with golden eyes.

He reaches up and taps my nose. “I couldn’t remember what we were going to see, so I just threw on a shirt, and when I got in the car Tsukki was all _oh cool this is your second time seeing them since you’ve got one of their shirts already_ and I didn’t wanna look down and make it fuckin’ obvious that I was checking so I agreed, yknow? And then I forgot about it. But we didn’t see The National. They don’t even play anywhere but, like, this one random place in New York, in America. I had t’order this shirt online, pay shipping and everything, i’ was bullshit. So he could tell I wasn’t paying attention, which explains why he started bugging me later, all _oooooooh Kuroo you’re not even paying attention what the fuck is wrong_ and so I told him ‘cause I can’t keep my mouth shut and he gave me _shitty. Fuckin’. Advice_.”

I push his hair back, off his forehead. “What’s wrong?”

“Mm not tellin’ you.”

But he told Tsukki. “What advice did he give you?”

“Shit advice.”

I remove my hand from his hair and consider slapping him. Not really, though. It’s not his fault I love him, and it’s not his fault he doesn’t love me back.

“How’s Shoyo’s?”

I huff. “Same as your night. I was distracted, Shoyo noticed, he bullied me into telling, and then he gave me shitty fuckin’ advice.”

He pushes my hair behind my ear. “’Istracted? What’s wrong?”

“Not telling.”

He grins. “What was Shoyo’s advice?”

“Shit.”

“Y’told Shoyo, but you won’t tell me?”

“You told Kei, but you won’t tell me.”

“’S different.”

“So’s this.”

“How d’you know?”

I take a gamble. “I’ll tell you if you tell me.”

He stares at me. I know how he feels – when was the last time either of us refused to tell each other something? When was the last time we kept secrets from each other? I told him when I spent all my savings on a new game, he told me when he painted his phone with nail polish and it got stuck shut. He’s the one who found my favorite game for me when he had to dig through my disaster of a closet to find it, and I’m the one who helped him out of the toilet when he sat down while the seat was up and got stuck. There’s no level of embarrassment that’s ever kept us from telling each other things or helping each other. It just doesn’t exist.

But this is different. It’s not embarrassment that’s keeping me from telling him, it’s the fact that things will be different. Would he put his head in my lap if he knew I had – dreams about him? Would he pet my hair if he knew how much I loved him? Would he tell me everything if he knew my heart hurt every time he looked at me?

“Kenma…” He runs a finger down my nose.

Oh, no. Is he actually going to tell me? He _can’t_ , he can’t, not now that I’ve promised an exchange, a secret for a secret, but what’s his secret, how bad can it be, it _can’t_ be on the same level as mine, it’s impossible, he’s going to tell me something small and I’m going to tell him I’m in love with him –

He sits up. “’S bedtime. You don’t like staying up late.”

I stare at him.

He stands up and offers me his hand.

I just – stare at him. I can’t do anything else. Am I supposed to be relieved that he didn’t tell me, because now I don’t have to tell him? But what can he tell Tsukishima Kei that he can’t tell me?

He reaches forward and takes my hand and pulls me up.

I stare at him. I think I might be about to cry.

He leads me to my room, guides me inside, and shuts the door behind him on his way out.

I shove my face into his jacket. I’m not crying. I’m absolutely not crying. I’m not.


	4. Kuroo

Thank _fuck_ today’s a Saturday. I’m not moving until I’ve gotta get up for practice. No one and nothing can make me. Not even my severe need to take a piss. I text Bokuto to take his pills and Frisbee-toss my phone directly into my laundry basket across the room, where at least it’s guaranteed a soft landing.

I roll over and face the wall. We don’t have a gorgeous or well-kept apartment; we’re not millionaires. This one has cracks in the wall and weird bumps in the paint and a whiter-than-the-rest square where someone must’ve had something hanging up in the past. And it doesn’t matter, because all I can see is Kenma’s face from last night.

He’d looked so betrayed. My fault, all my fault, for not keeping my stupid mouth shut. I’m keeping a secret from him, sure, but what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him, right? If he doesn’t know, he can’t care. But he both knows _and_ cares _now_ , because I’m an _idiot_.

I could tell him the truth, I guess. Say, “Kenma, I love you,” and watch his eyes slide away from mine as he processes the statement and then, the worst part, begins reviewing _everything_ in the light of me loving him. All the times I’ve sat with my head in his lap won’t seem so innocent – and they were, actually, innocent. Innocent enough. But he won’t know that. Or me petting his hair or wandering into his room without knocking – would that seem weird? Probably. I shouldn’t do that anymore. Not that he knows. But _I_ know.

Wait.

Didn’t I just decide that what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him?

Jesus Christ.

Okay, telling him the truth is out. Could I tell him I was lying? He won’t believe that. Besides, I’ve never lied to him, and it’s not fuckin’ likely to happen. I guess I could tell him to forget it? But that won’t work, he won’t forget it. He doesn’t forget things. Maybe I could make up a secret and tell it to him? But why the fuck wouldn’t I have just told him in the first place?

I can’t fix this.

 _I can’t fix this_.

I don’t even want Kenma to love me back anymore. It’s too much to hope for. Maybe someday I’ll be able to dream about it. Right now, I just want him to smile at me again, so the most recent memory I have of him won’t be that horrifying empty look in his eyes.

My door slams open with all the force of a goddamn hurricane. “HEY!”

I jump half a meter into the air and roll over to face the door. “Bokuto, I’m –”

He smashes Kenma’s door open. “YOU TOO!”

A faint, wordless grumble reaches my ears.

“Both of you! What are you doing! Where are your phones!”

He looks at me accusatorially. I point at my laundry basket. He whips his head around to glare at Kenma. After a minute, he throws his hands up. “Why are you both keeping your phones in your laundry baskets! Especially when I’m trying to text you!”

I swing my legs around and stand, an incredible feat of strength in my opinion. I reach my door at the same time Kenma makes it to his, looking especially tiny in my jacket, and especially sad with his bloodshot eyes. I can’t imagine I look much better – Tsukki saved my life by making me drink more water than any human body has any right to drink, but when I move my tongue I can taste the grossness and my hair is guaranteed to be a disaster.

“Why were you trying to text us?” Kenma asks. He’s avoiding my eyes. He’s _avoiding my eyes_. He never does that, not unless we’re in public.

What would he do if I threw myself at him, just launched myself at him, and screamed that I love him and that’s my big secret?

Probably, he’d just stare at me while I pissed myself. Now that I’m standing, I really, _really_ have to pee. I edge out of my room and towards the bathroom.

“Where are you going!” Bokuto demands.

“Bathroom. Gotta pee.”

“All right. I respect that.”

“Also gotta brush my teeth,” I yell as I shut the door behind me.

“All right, your breath smelled awful, I could smell it from across the room,” he yells through the door.

“It’s probably not necessary to yell,” Kenma says, at his normal volume.

“What was that?” I yell.

“I know you can hear me,” he says normally.

“Sorry, what?” I yell.

“Your hair is dumb.”

“Ex _cuse_ me?!”

“I knew you could hear me.”

I huff at him when I walk out. He wrinkles his nose in total disgust. But – _but_ – he’s looking at me.

“Brush your teeth, before you kill something,” he advises.

Bokuto nudges him. “You too. You don’t smell too great, either. C’mon. Benefits of having two sinks.”

Kenma gives him a disgusted expression before shuffling over to my side, squeezing toothpaste onto his toothbrush like the action personally offends him.

I brush faster.

He speeds up, too.

I glance at him in the mirror just in time to see his eyes flicker away from me.

He glances at the fluoride.

 _Hard mode_. He’s going for it. So am I, then.

I spit, rinse, and grab the fluoride first, but he’s right behind me.

I’m not guaranteed the win. You can’t speed up thirty seconds, but without a timer, we’ve gotta count on our own, and we can’t count out loud. Thirty seconds can be squashed into thirteen if he’s willing to pull out the good ol’ “human error” excuse.

He holds out for twenty-five by my count before spitting, suddenly, without enough warning for me to get there first.

“Sixteen wins for me, five for you,” he says with dignity as he wipes his mouth.

“You’re already up to sixteen? Haven’t we only been here for, like, a week?”

“It’s been four.”

“Oh.”

We present ourselves to Bokuto.

“As I was _trying_ to text you, we should watch a movie together.”

“If you expect me to leave, you’re gonna be disappointed,” I inform him. I can see Kenma nodding vigorously in my peripheral vision. I feel so strong when he agrees with me. Like we’re _united_. Sorry, Bokuto. You’re my bro, but Kenma’s, like, my soulmate. Even if he doesn’t know it.

“Not _see_ a movie, _watch_ a movie. Here. As roommates. Because we’re friends who talk to each other and do fun shit together.”

“What movie?” Kenma asks cautiously.

Bokuto and I look at each other and nod.

“Ghostbusters,” I say, at precisely the same time as he says “Ella Enchanted.”

I snort. “What the fuck?”

He looks hurt, clasping a hand over his heart. “I told you it was my favorite movie!”

“When?”

“Last year.”

“Was I actually awake?”

“Shit, I don’t know. You have a weird sleep schedule. You should try to work that out.”

“Why’s it your favorite?”

“You know that part where they tell her to stop so she stops in midair?”

“Yeah?”

“I wanna be able to do that.”

“That’s it?”

“What, that’s not enough?”

“All right, but I still wanna watch Ghostbusters.”

“What if –” he raises a finger – “We watch Ella today, and Ghostbusters next weekend? _And_ what if we invite Tsukki and Hinata and Akaashi?”

I stop smiling faster than I started. So I’ll be sitting around with a friend while Bokuto flirts with Akaashi and _Kenma flirts with Hinata_? What kind of a setup is this?

“You both look like I just whacked you in the face with a two-by-four, should we watch Ghostbusters today and Ella next weekend instead?”

I glance at Kenma, and sure enough, he looks like someone just told him they smashed his PS4. Why? Shouldn’t he be happy to hang out with Hinata? “What’s wrong?” A little direct, but it’ll do.

He looks at me out of the corner of his eye. “Nothing, what’s wrong with you?”

I blink. “Nothing, what’s wrong with you?”

He huffs, a sure sign I’ve made him laugh and he just doesn’t wanna admit it. I ruffle his hair. Did I decide that was one of the things I wasn’t gonna do anymore? Ah well. I probably didn’t. And he’s never told me not to do it, or displayed any of his usual signs of discomfort, neither of which he’s shy about doing. And I like his hair. So who cares? Not me.

“I’m fine with Ella today and a party next week.”

Kenma shrugs. “Me too.”

“Woo! Wanna watch now?”

“What time is it?”

“Ten.”

Kenma nods. “Better to do it before practice than after.”

“Want pancakes?”

I’ve gotta learn to cook so I can make Kenma look at me the way he looks at Bokuto when Bo makes pancakes. I bet Hinata fuckin’ Shoyo can’t make pancakes.

Bokuto heads into the kitchen with a “Roommate bonding! Hey hey _hey!”_ and Kenma disappears into his room and shuts the door.

I dig my phone out of my laundry basket. How’d it get so far down there? It’s not a friggin’ mole, it can’t burrow down into the dirt. Also, how the fuck did it make it into a sock? I’m gonna have to bleach it. Or burn it. Maybe I should just get a new one. Ugh.

I’ve got a picture of Belle from my mom and three texts from Bokuto, with increasing numbers of exclamation points and question marks.

Is that guilt I feel?

Hmm.

I check the time stamps.

Nah. No guilt. He only waited two minutes before bursting into my room without knocking.

I stand as Kenma opens his door, balancing his laptop on one arm. He’s wearing flannel pants now instead of shorts, but he’s still wearing my jacket. I’m not mentioning it, ever, and he hasn’t said a word about it. He can wear it as much as he wants. It makes my heart hurt, but – I want him to wear it, so I’ll deal. He looks better in it than I do anyway. I’ll keep using Bo’s jacket. It’s not like I have to worry about it being clean, seeing as I do his laundry.

I walk with him to the couch and sit down next to him. He ignores me as he pirates the movie.

“Bo?”

“Bro?”

“Do you have an actual physical copy of Ella Enchanted?”

“Of course, why wouldn’t I?”

“Dunno.”

I grin at Kenma. He gives me his disgusted face, wrinkling his nose and staring at me from under hooded eyelids for half a second before he remembers that he’s ignoring me.

He sighs.

He gives up on the movie and on ignoring me and switches over to   
Vine, turning the computer a little so I can see and turning up the volume. “This one’s got a kitten in it.”

I stare in awe as it purrs.

He scrolls after a few loops. The next one also has a kitten in it, and it is also cute. The next one is also about a kitten. Kenma only follows viners who make vines of kittens. He’s such a good person. I love him so much. How did I get lucky enough to be his friend? I show him the videos of Belle my mom’s been sending me. He coos over her. What a perfect human being.

Bokuto joins us after a few minutes, carrying three plates of pancakes without spilling a single drop of syrup. I hand Kenma my phone so he can watch the rest of my Belle videos, but he puts it down in favor of pancakes.

“Are they good?” He asks as Kenma and I eat like we’ve been starving for days.

I drop my fork so I can give him two thumbs up. Kenma nods energetically.

“Good! I’m gonna go get the movie!”

“Are you planning on eating anything?” I yell after him.

“Eventually!”

“Did you take your meds?”

“Yeah!”

“Don’t you usually take them with food?”

“I ate already!”

“Oh.”

Kenma looks at Bo’s plate, then meets my gaze. We shrug. No judgment here.

Bokuto returns with the movie, pops it into Kenma’s laptop, and hooks it up to the TV. “Lights on or off?”

“Off. Who watches movies with lights on?”

“Akaashi.”

“Why?”

He shrugs. “Hell if I know.”

The lights flick off, Bo sits down next to me, and we eat our pancakes as a little baby appears on screen.

“Looks nothing like Anne Hathaway,” Bokuto grumbles.

Anne herself appears moments later, by which time we’re all finished with our pancakes. It didn’t take long, but then, they were good fucking pancakes.

And by the time the stepsisters show up, I’m sprawled across the couch, head in Kenma’s lap, feet in Bokuto’s lap, with Kenma running his fingers through my hair absentmindedly – he’s probably just looking for something to do with his fingers, seeing as he doesn’t have either his phone or his DS in hand, but I’m not complaining. And it’s not like he’s _always_ just looking for something to do, like last night –

Last night.

I turn so I can frown up at him instead of watch the movie. He glances down at me, but won’t maintain eye contact.

Last night, he said he told Shoyo something, but he wouldn’t tell me what it was.

Hold the fucking phone.

I’m sitting here feeling all guilty for keeping a secret, but so is he! And what’s his secret? Is he trying to rationalize spending another several thousand yen on a card in one of his games? Why wouldn’t he tell me? It’s not like I judge him for it, and he knows that. He hauled my dripping wet ass out of a toilet at one in the morning once, I have no right to judge him for jack shit _and he knows it_ , why won’t he tell me? Is it just because I wouldn’t spill my secret? Is he really vindictive like that? He’s never done it before, but then, I’ve never kept anything from him before, so would I know? But I know everything about him, don’t I? But I don’t know why he’s doing this, so I guess I don’t know as much about him as I thought I did.

I stretch for the remote and turn the volume up. The louder it is, the happier I’ll be.


	5. Kenma

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I listened to [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ef1nJWtkprU) a lot while I was writing this/these next few chapters

I’ve never walked into a gym Kuro hasn’t already been in.

This is a fact. I didn’t start volleyball until a year after he did, and he’d already been telling everyone about me, telling me about everyone, until I could walk into a huge room full of unfamiliar people without immediately wanting to leaving it. He spent the next two years organizing the entire team around me, and by the time he left for college, it was my team, a safe place where I could be comfortable even without him. And then I went to the same college as he did, and found out that he’d been doing the same thing – remaking the team, this time with Koutarou’s help, so that when I walked into this gym for the first time, I could play at my best, without fear or discomfort. Or, with minimal fear and discomfort, anyway.

I never considered what it might be like to walk into a gym with Kuroo when he and I weren’t – on good terms. I never thought it would happen, so I didn’t bother planning for it. But here it is, happening. I’m not talking to him, I’m not even next to him. I gave him back his jacket hours ago and he didn’t say a word. Suddenly, I’m not entirely in his protective shadow anymore, and it’s not like when he graduated – there are players on this team who played for two years without knowing my name. And that’s fine, that’s how it should be, but – somehow – they’re already considering Kuro for their captain, and if things are going bad between us, people are gonna side with Kuroo.

Not that it’s all that obvious. It’s not like he’s tossed me to the dogs. It’s just – he’s – colder. It happened while we were watching the movie. I don’t know why. I wasn’t doing anything I hadn’t done before, and he didn’t complain or sit up. He just looked at me, and things were different. He stiffened up. I stopped stroking his hair and he didn’t complain about that, either.

I don’t wanna be here.

It’s not like I can do anything about it, though. Kuroo _lives_ with me, it’s not like I can skip. And I’m already here. It’s too late to run away.

I’m not supposed to feel trapped in a gym.

I head for Keiji. He’s safe. I practice a lot with him. Now that we’re on the same team, we’re a little less competitive, if only because beating each other would only be symbolic now. I get along with him. We commiserate over Koutarou and Kuro a lot. We’re friends.

He and I set standing next to each other, learning each other’s techniques, taking what’s useful and discarding what doesn’t work.

“So you and Kuroo are having a hard time?”

I grimace at him. Does he know what ‘tact’ means? On the other hand, at least I’m not just seeing things – Keiji sees it, too. “Ugh.”

He quirks an eyebrow at me. “Listen, I’ve been waiting for Bokuto-san to ask me out for – uh – five or six years now, I know how you feel.”

How I feel? What does his relationship with Koutarou have to do with whatever’s going on with Kuro? “Why don’t you just ask him out?”

“’Cause then he’ll have a breakdown over not having asked me, and not having had the courage, and how he doesn’t deserve me, and I’m not willing to trigger that. He’ll get it together someday. Why don’t _you_ just ask Kuroo out?”

I drop the ball. “ _What_?”

He tosses the ball, someone whacks it right across the court, laughter echoes around the gym, and he turns back to me. “You’re waiting for him to ask you out, right? I think he’s waiting for _you_ to ask _him_.”

“No.”

“No?”

“To all of that.”

“If you say so.”

“Ak _aaaaaaaaa_ shi! Toss to me!”

He mutters under his breath, but tosses for Koutarou.

If Koutarou is _there_ , where’s –

Ah. Talking to Tsukki. Of course. Talking to Tsukki instead of me, like he would always be if he had the choice. Because Tsukki’s quickly becoming more important to him than me, and I’m gonna lose him, I’m gonna lose Kuroo, my Kuro, I’m losing him and he doesn’t care. He doesn’t love me, so he’ll leave me eventually, for someone else who matters more, and I’ll just become another old friend he talks to once a year to wish me happy birthday or something _stupid_ –

I heave in a breath. I can breathe, I just have to avoid thinking about next week, about Kuroo and Tsukki together and me sitting there with Shoyo while the love of my life flirts with someone else.

I can’t do this. Not here, not now, not ever, never. I shove it down. I picture a blue wall, all around my mind, blocking out everything, everyone, because nothing matters and that’s okay.

The rest of practice passes in a blur. No one yells at me, I don’t think, or if they did, I don’t remember it. No one talks to me after practice. Kuroo did? Maybe.

 

Koutarou’s heels flash in front of me. Are we heading to the car? I think so.

I watch his heels.

They get me to the car, and when I get in, no one yells at me, so I guess it’s what I’m supposed to be doing. I pull out my DS and no one talks to me and that’s good.

 

“Kenma, we’re home,” Koutarou says, twisting to face me.

I nod and get out of the car. Koutarou’s heels flash in front of me, all the way to the door, all the way inside, until they disappear because they’re not headed towards safety.

I head towards safety.

 

The lock clicks when I’m in bed. Or it clicked when I locked it? I locked it. I guess.

 

I think someone’s knocking on the door.

 

I think they’ve been knocking for a while.

 

I should get up.

 

The knocking stops.

 

Maybe they think I’m not here? But I am here.

 

I get up.

When I open my door, Kuro is sitting on the floor.

“Kuro?”

He jerks and blinks up at me. “Hi.”

“Were you asleep?”

“Yeah.”

“Sorry. For waking you up.”

He scrambles up. “No, it’s fine. Can I come in?” He holds up a quart of ice cream. “Might’ve melted by now, but it’s chocolate.”

I step aside.

He takes my hand off the door handle, shuts the door, and leads me to bed.

Everything is warm, except the ice cream. It’s melted, but it’s still cold.

Kuro wraps me in every single one of my blankets and throws an arm around my shoulders.

He shows me cat videos while I eat, going through all my favorites before he turns to YouTube for more.

“Done?”

I nod, and he replaces the ice cream with my DS.

He knows me well.

I turn my face towards him and pull in a deep breath. He must’ve showered – he smells nice, like soap instead of sweat. And we didn’t – I don’t think we had ice cream. He must’ve gone out to get some for me.

Kei can’t take this from me.

He just – can’t. This is mine.

Peace sweeps over me. Even if Kuro doesn’t love me back, even if I never get to kiss him, even if I never get to hear him say he loves me or hold his hand or tell him I love him so much it hurts – I’ll accept this. This is precious. Even if I have to watch Kuro fall in love with someone else, anyone else, he’s still my best friend. He could never drift too far away from me. We’ve been next to each other for too long to just – take off in opposite directions.

Maybe I overreacted, a little, earlier.

Oh well. I probably didn’t.

I turn back to my DS and Kuro turns to his phone. I win a boss battle and he hisses as he loses at something or other. I’m warm and Kuro is here, with me, next to me, and what else could I want?

“Kenma?” He asks casually.

‘Casually’ always means ‘hiding lots of tension.’

“Yeah?”

He’s not meeting my eyes.

There are some people, like me, who won’t meet people’s eyes. It’s because that’s stressful and difficult. And then there are other people, like Kuro, who make eye contact like it’s vital to their life force. When people like me don’t make eye contact, it’s not surprising, and it doesn’t mean much. When people like Kuro won’t make eye contact, it’s a little shocking, and it means _everything_.

“We’re friends, right? No matter what?”

I wait. He’ll look at me eventually.

He does. Eventually.

I nod decisively. “No matter what.” I almost tell him he can trust me – he can tell me how he feels about Kei, and how he plans on getting into his and Tadashi’s relationship, if he plans on getting in there at all – but nope. That’s taking things too far. I can deal with whatever happens, but I’m not helping it along. I must’ve made some unexplained noise, though, because Kuro doesn’t look away.

He studies me.

I don’t mind when Kuro does that – stares at me, like he’s searching for something. It freaks me out when other people do it, but not him. He won’t misinterpret whatever he finds.

He relaxes.

“Did you invite Hinata to Bo’s party on Saturday?”

“No, I forgot.”

His finger stops tapping, but he resumes his game after a minute. “You should probably do it soon. Hinata strikes me as the kinda kid who’ll make actual plans to play volleyball all weekend. Gotta catch him before he does.”

I read the choice my game is giving me, but I’ve got no idea what it says. It takes three tries to get it right. Why’s he so worried that Shoyo might not come? Is he trying to set me up? “Ok. Did you invite Kei yet?”

“Yeah, while we were at practice. He said he’d only come if he could bring Yamaguchi.”

I type out a text to Shoyo. “Is Tadashi coming?”

“He just texted me to tell me that yes, they will both be attending this fine get-together, and they will be bringing popcorn bags. Wonderful people.”

“Tadashi’s school is close, right?”

“Half an hour, I think. Speaking of which – Hinata’s taking the train, right? You’re not driving up to get him?”

I give him my best side-eye. “He couldn’t pay me to make that drive twice in one night. And I don’t even know if he’s coming – wait.”

_Ghostbusters sounds cool!!! Can I bring Kageyama?_

“He wants to know if he can bring Tobio.”

Kuro snorts. “As long as you’re comfortable with it, sure. It’ll be a class reunion for them.”

I huff as I respond.

_Sure. Kei and Tadashi will be here, too._

_Kageyama says he can come!!! Cool, I haven’t seen them in a while!!_

“He and Tobio are coming.”

“We’re gonna be the only single people there.”

“Koutarou and Keiji aren’t actually dating yet.”

“Mm. They are. Bokuto just hasn’t figured it out yet.”

“Keiji says he’s waiting for Koutarou to ask him out.”

“He is. Has been, for years. It’s amazing. What would it take to get Bo to actually do it?”

“Cheerleaders? _A to the S to the K Him Out! Goooooo Koutarou!_ ”

He snickers. “Perfect. Wanna get dressed up? We could be his cheerleaders.”

“Why dress up? He loves us as we are.”

Kuro snorts. “What, don’t wanna see me in booty shorts and thigh highs? I don’t blame you, I don’t wanna see that shit either.”

My fingers freeze up, my character stops moving and dies, and I turn and curl my entire body into his side. Jesus _Christ_. That is _exactly_ what I want to see, now that I think about it. I try to push _that_ image aside for later, not now, _please_ not now, but it’s not working. I’m gonna break Kuro’s ribs if I lean against them any harder, but I can’t pick my face up – he’ll see me blushing.

He pokes my head. “Is the mental image that horrifying?”

“No,” I mumble.

“What?”

“W-we can dress up,” I say, a little louder.

He laughs and pets my hair. “All right. I’ll buy the outfits tomorrow, we’ll have a quick rehearsal – I wonder if we could get the team in on it? Get to practice early, have someone distract Bo while we pass out uniforms – I think it’d work.”

“Is Keiji in on this? Or are we springing this on him?”

“Oh, he gets a uniform too, he’s our head cheerleader.”

I look up at him. “Doesn’t that kinda take away the point of cheerleading then? If he’s sitting there saying _ask me out_ , it kinda defeats the purpose of making Koutarou ask him out.”

He frowns. “Damn. Can we keep a uniform for him in the back, and when Bo asks him out, we can have him change?”

“Why don’t we just give him the uniform and let him wear it for Koutarou?”

“Because if we’re wearing it outside of our own bedrooms, he’s gotta wear it too.”

“Ah.” I look down at his phone. I don’t know the game he’s playing, but he’s able to play while holding a conversation, so either it’s easy or he’s had it for a while. He hasn’t told me about it yet. Must be easy.

“Humiliation must go both ways.”

“You think it would be humiliating?”

He snorts. “Why _wouldn’t_ I be embarrassed? What, do _you_ think it would look good on me?”

“Yes.”

I watch his character soar off a ledge and into space. The screen fades to black. The character reincarnates.

Kuro doesn’t move it.

I wait.

And then I blush.

Oh god. Oh my god. What did I just say? Why would I say that? What’s wrong with me? What was going through my brain? Why didn’t I just ignore the question? I didn’t have to answer. Kuro wouldn’t have bugged me. It was an awkward question, he’d have understood if I didn’t wanna answer. Oh my god.

“Oh,” Kuro says in a strangled voice. “Maybe it wouldn’t be so humiliating.”

His character starts up again.

Jesus.

I make no attempt to restart that conversation and I can’t think of a single other thing that I could possibly talk about. Nothing has happened in my entire life that’s worth discussing and I can’t think of a single conversation starter. Not one. Even though I’m talking to Kuro.

He doesn’t start up a conversation, either, and I don’t blame him. I probably just made it pretty awkward for him. I almost wanna text Shoyo: _this is why I can’t ask him out! All I said is that booty shorts would look good on him and the entire conversation ended!_

Ugh.

He doesn’t take his arm back, though, or ask me to move, and he doesn’t stop petting my hair. He knows he can tell me if something makes him uncomfortable, and he’s not displaying any signs of discomfort, aside from the fact that he stopped functioning for a minute, but if he’s moved on from that and acting like nothing happened, I’m not going to draw attention to it. So I stay where I am.

My game calls to me – I was at a good part, up until I let myself die – but I’m comfortable here. Kuro smells nice, and it’s fun watching him play – I was right, it is an easy game – and I missed him. He felt – far away. It was like I was watching him slip away from me, leave me, and I couldn’t do anything about it, I could only watch him go. I didn’t like it. I don’t like being estranged from my best friend. I missed him.

So I stay where I am, even when my eyes start drooping. Even when I’m only vaguely aware of the rest of the world.

In my dreams, he stays too, but when I wake up to the sun shining in my eyes, he’s gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> also [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tCEr4XbyLR8) is a good thing   
> and by 'good' I mean emotional but yknow


	6. Kuroo

He’s asleep.

He’s _still_ asleep, which is good, ‘cause the light is starting to shine through the fuckin’ windows and I’m _still here_. He let me in at eleven last night, so I’ve been here what, six, seven hours? It’s not my fault I passed out, though. Passed out sitting up with my arm around another guy with no back support or headrest. Totally comfortable! Completely understandable. Also understandable that I woke up with my face buried in Kenma’s hair. Just guys being dudes, falling asleep in each other’s arms. Bros being bros, peacefully curled up around each other.

Meanwhile, he’s in love with someone else.

I’m gonna stay out of his way. Christ, he was so nervous about asking Hinata over he put it off for an entire day. He’s – really, actually, in love with Hinata. I have no right to interfere.

I slide him down, so at least maybe he won’t wake up with a crick in his neck, and pull my arm out from under his shoulders. He curls back up into a ball, lying where I was sitting, sighing as he settles in. Shit, he’s cute.

No. No, no, no. Bad Kuroo. No more thoughts like that. He’s gonna leave me and it’s gonna hurt like hell if I don’t get used to the idea that he’s not mine.

I ease out of his bed sloooooowly, really slowly, super slowly, like, _wow_ , slow. Don’t wanna make the bed creak. Also don’t wanna get out of his bed, but that’s besides the point. And irrelevant, because I’m not dating him and shouldn’t be in his bed at all. And – maybe he doesn’t want me here? He didn’t seem to want much to do with me yesterday.

He actually wore his own jacket, for one thing. He gave mine back before practice. He usually doesn’t give it to me until we actually get to campus. And something was wrong, but he wouldn’t tell me what it was, so it’s probably got something to do with whatever secret he’s keeping from me. And there’s not a whole lot he’d bother keeping from me, except, maybe, a huge-ass crush on Hinata. _Why_ he wouldn’t tell me, I don’t know, but it’s like – a separation. The beginning of a separation. He’s starting to push me away. But I _couldn’t_ stay away, not once he shut down. It’s horrible when he does that, like he’s slipping away from me, out of my reach. Not just like he’s my friend instead of my boyfriend, but like he’s not even that anymore, like I’m losing the most important part of my life. I can’t just _ignore_ him when he does that. If he ever shoves me away and asks for Shoyo, I’ll drag Hinata over here myself, but until then, here I am. I won’t get between them, but I’m not letting Kenma fall to pieces all alone.

I collapse into my bed. It’s cold. And empty.

Not thinking about that. Kenma’s not mine. Gotta think about something else.

Last night he said I’d look good in booty shorts.

 _Jesus_.

Did he even realize he’d _said_ it? He blushed, like, three minutes later. That’s a long time. He definitely didn’t think about it, he just answered. Fuck, take _that_ , Hinata Shoyo! I bet Kenma doesn’t think about _you_ in booty shorts!

 _Is_ Kenma thinking about me in booty shorts?

He’s demisexual, I know that, but if there’s anyone he’s formed an emotional connection with, it’s me. And last night, as soon as I mentioned booty shorts, he got all flustered. His whole body reacted, turning towards me like he was being dragged there.

I slide my hand down my pants and close my eyes.

My ribs still feel bruised where he was leaning against them, pressing himself into me.

The Kenma in my head slides his hand down my pants and grabs me, and never mind the fact that the hand on my dick is bigger than his, it’s calloused like his is and the thumb is sliding across the tip of my dick and _oh god, Kenma._ I pull in a breath as he lightly drags his nails up along a vein, arch into his hand when he wraps his hand around my dick and strokes, bite my knuckles when he peeks out from under my arm to _look_ at me when he _squeezes_ , _Christ_ , _Kenma, Kenma, love, please – right there – oh God – fuck –_ fuck – _Kenma_ –

I stare at the ceiling until I can breathe properly again. That was – fast. To say the least.

Well, shit.

This is _not_ conducive to my resolution to stay out of Kenma’s and Hinata’s way. I gotta get my shit together.

Ugh.

Anyway. I need, like, thirty tissues.

I clean up and get back in bed and can’t fall asleep.

Nice.

I guess I could study.

Aha, right, anyway, I wanna finish the game I was playing last night.

I wander out into the living room and spread out along the couch.

Sunlight trickles in, slowly, creeping up until it starts warming my feet. That’s the shit I like, right there.

“Morning, Bo,” I call as he shambles out of his room.

“Hmmmng.”

“Yeah.”

He doesn’t respond. That’s all right. I wouldn’t understand him if he did.

He makes it out of the bathroom eventually, though, muttering something about his meds.

“Take ‘em.”

“Mmyeah, yeah, I know, I know.”

He returns to the living room after a minute, shoving the last of a slice of bread into his mouth. He picks up my feet, sits down, and replaces them in his lap. He didn’t even bother doing his hair. “Nnnn, love the sun.”

“Me too.”

“I was thinking. What if bipolar meant I could be at both poles at once? Like, North Pole, South Pole, I’m in both places, bam, fuckin freezing my feet off in two places at once. That would be awesome.”

“No one else is there, you’d get lonely.”

“There are penguins.”

“They don’t speak.”

“They make noise, and that’s probably just as good, right?”

“Are you looking for conversation?”

“Not really.”

“Then it’s probably good enough.”

“True.”

I let it drop. He stares out the window.

_Is Koutarou making…_

I slide open Kenma’s text: _Is Koutarou making pancakes this morning?_

“Owl, you making pancakes? Kenma’s asking.”

“I’ll make pancakes if you help,” he yells in the general direction of Kenma’s room.

_I’ve got a test tomorrow._

“I’ll help you study, and that’s not a good enough reason to have pancakes made for you,” I yell.

_3:_

“No number of sad cat faces will help you now,” I decree. “We’re both gonna learn to make pancakes today.”

_3333333:_

“If you don’t come out in 5 minutes, Bo and I are gonna make pancakes and you’re not gonna be allowed to eat any.”

_3: <_

“Give ‘im a couple minutes. We’ll both help you bake today.”

“Is making pancakes actually baking?”

“Like, as opposed to cooking? I guess so, ‘cause it’s not that.”

“What’s the difference? Semantically.”

“No idea, but if it’s a cake, it’s gotta be baking.”

“It’s not a cake, though.”

“Pan- _cake_.”

He stares into the distance like he’s just had the epiphany of a lifetime.

“Owls are supposed to be wise.”

“I never realized!”

“I can tell.”

Kenma’s door creaks and out he comes, shuffling his feet and rubbing his eyes.

“There he is, in all his morning glory!” I crow as I sit up.

Kenma pauses, shifts towards the noise, and side-eyes – I don’t know. He’s not looking at anyone in particular.

“What’d the wall do to you? Don’t give it that look, it might take offense and fall down on us all. I don’t wanna be punished for your sass.”

He blinks, readjusts, and releases the full force of his glare on me.

“ _There_ ya go, you found me. C’mon, it’s pancake time!”

Bokuto and Kenma follow me into the kitchen, both looking a little put out.

“How many bowls do we need?”

“Two. The big ones, shithead, not the little ones,” he adds as I go for the little ones.

“Right.”

Kenma pulls out the chocolate chips.

“I thought we were saving those for a special occasion?”

He glares at me and plops the bag on the counter.

“All righty, I guess if we’re always waiting for a special occasion we’ll never eat them, right?”

He nods emphatically.

“I second that,” Bo adds. “It’s chocolate chip day.”

Kenma rips open the package, dumps a couple into his hand, and holds out the bag to Bo. Bo holds out his hands and receives a precious few. Kenma holds out the bag to me, and I accept the offering.

We ceremoniously devour our chocolate, and begin.

Turns out the dry ingredients have to be sifted – who knew? – and the wet ingredients have to be mixed separately before they can be added to the dry ingredients. Also, you gotta make a well in the dry ingredients? Why? What purpose could that possibly serve?

Kenma disappears halfway through. When he comes back, his hair is clipped back. It’s adorable. He’s adorable. I love him so much.

No, no, no, no more thinking things like that. No more.

“How long do we cook them for?” He asks.

Bokuto frowns and turns to me. “See, Kenma says _cook_ , not _bake_.”

“I’ll google it when we’re done. How long do we bake them for?”

“Cook,” Kenma corrects quietly.

“Time?”

“’Til they’re brown.”

“That’s not very specific.”

Bokuto shrugs. “It’s an art form, all right?” He pours batter onto the griddle and waits.

Kenma and I watch patiently.

“It’s definitely bake.”

“Cook.”

“Bake.”

“Cook.”

I wait a minute until Kenma settles down again. “Bake.”

“Cook.”

“Why don’t you just google it now? It’s not like you need to be here for this part.”

“I’ve gotta watch the master bake.”

“Oh. Well. In that case, you can stay.”

“He’s gotta watch you _cook_.”

“Bake.”

“Cook.”

“Bake.”

He doesn’t respond. Is he done?

I wait a minute.

Nothing.

I turn back to the pancakes.

“Cook.”

Bokuto snorts. He slides a spatula under a pancake and flips it. “You can always tell if it’s ready to be flipped, because you can actually slide the spatula under it. If you can’t, if it feels like it’s sticking to the pan, it’s not cooked well enough yet. I mean, I guess if you didn’t put oil on the pan, or if you forget about it for a billion years, it would cook on, but if it’s only been on here for a few minutes and it’s sticking, that just means the batter hasn’t cooked through yet. Got it?”

“Got it,” Kenma and I say in chorus.

“Once it’s flipped, you only leave it there for a few seconds. It’s already mostly cooked, y’know? Leave it too long and it’ll burn.”

He slides three perfect pancakes onto one plate and three perfect pancakes onto another, and ladles the rest of the batter onto the griddle.

“Nice,” I say appreciatively.

Kenma hunts down the syrup. I take my cue and grab forks. Kenma starts setting the goddamn table, which we haven’t used in three months.

“Bo, what’d’you want to drink?”

“Orange juice.”

“Kenma?”

“I’ll get my own drink.”

“No, no, please, let me, it’s my pleasure.”

Kenma acquiesces with more grace than is entirely natural. I keep an eye on him. What’s he gonna pull? He won’t lose this easily.

But he’s not doing anything, just hanging around watching Bokuto.

Bo flips the last couple pancakes onto a plate.

I will _not_ lose.

I whip around, pull a knife out of the utensil drawer, and cut Bo’s pancakes for him.

“Just to make life a little easier for you, Owl, since you’ve been cooking us breakfast for so long.”

Kenma lifts the griddle and carries it to the sink.

Bo stares at me in confusion. “When was the last time I cut my pancakes?”

The water starts running, and Bo turns around. “Woah! Kenma, are you cleaning up for me?”

Kenma nods.

Welp.

I lost, fair and square.

I slide the knife into the sink.

“I’m not cleaning up after _you_ , Kuro. _You’ve_ never made me breakfast.”

“Is that a challenge?”

He sparkles up at me.

“Bokuto, you don’t have to worry about a _thing_ tomorrow. _I’m_ gonna make breakfast.”

He gapes at me for a minute, then rolls his eyes and throws his hands up.

“What?”

“Nothing. Nothing. You’re both dumbasses. Sit down and eat the goddamn chocolate chip pancakes.”

“Well, yeah, but why?”

“Nothing. Google the difference between cooking and baking. Also, _you_ take these partially-chopped pancakes. I wanna eat my pancakes all at once like usual.”

I munch on the poorly-cut pancakes and click the first link that comes up. “Baking refers to the cooking of flour-based foods… blah, blah… shit is cooked by exposing them to particular temperatures that firm each specific dough to the center, with just the right degree of browning on the outside. See? Baking!”

“They said it refers to _cooking_ flour-based foods.”

I pick a different link. “Baking is very specific but you can experiment with cooking. You can’t experiment with pancakes. Therefore, baking.”

“But you can still call it cooking. You’re the one who read that part.”

“But it’s technically baking.”

Bo raises both hands. “So semantically, it’s baking, but you could still plausibly refer to it as cooking?”

Kenma and I nod. Slowly.

“So you both win. Or you both lose. Stop staring at me. I didn’t do anything wrong.”

We finish our pancakes in silence. They’re good fuckin’ pancakes.

“I’ll wash the dishes,” I announce as Kenma puts his fork down.

I’ve got his plate in the sink before he can even whip around to stare at me. I pick up the soap and turn to smirk at him, and suddenly, there’s soap on my shirt. “What the fuck?”

He giggles.

 _Giggles_.

My heart aches for a second. I am one sappy little dickface for a minute. But all I wanna do is make him giggle again, and I don’t know how without being really, super, duper, obviously gay for him. Like, what am I supposed to do, squirt soap on my clothes again just so he’ll laugh? If that’s not fucking obvious, I don’t know what is. And anyway, I’m not supposed to care anymore. He’s not mine to love or to make giggle.

“Bro, you actually planning on doing the dishes, or are you just gonna stand there and blush?”

Fuck. I can’t _do_ this. I can’t – I can’t let myself stare at him. No more. It’s gonna be obvious, to Hinata if not Kenma, and that’s not fair to either of them. And if I’m too close to him, it’ll hurt like hell when he gets a boyfriend. I can’t do this.

I scrub with a vengeance and turn the water on high, so it’s nice and loud, just the way I like it, and I _still_ hear Kenma’s phone ding, and I _still_ hear him mutter “Shoyo” and leave.

This is a good thing. It’s a good thing that he’s talking to Shoyo. I’m not jealous. Why would I be jealous? What is there to be jealous of? Nothing, because being jealous would mean that I think I’ve got a chance. I don’t. I have no chance. I should stop thinking about it now. I _have_ to stop thinking about it now.

Bokuto hauls himself up on the counter next to the sink, an impressive feat considering we’ve got about half a foot of empty counter space. He swings his legs. “Bro?”

“Yeah?”

“You know I love you, right?”

I narrow my eyes at him. “Yeah, why?”

“You know you’re my best friend, right?”

“Yeeee-eees.”

“Friends call each other on their shit, right?”

“If they must.”

“Listen. Kuroo. Dude. My guy. I have been trying to teach you how to make pancakes for years. _Years_. Okay? And you’ve always refused. I get it. It’s not something you’re interested in, and I make such perfect pancakes you’ve got no reason to learn. But Kenma’s been living with us for all of four weeks, and the second he wordlessly implies he might sorta want you to make pancakes, you decide you’re making pancakes from now on.”

“So?”

“So, you love him.”

“Bokuto, that’s not calling me on my shit. I am _well aware_ of that shit. _Totally aware_ of that shit.”

“But you haven’t told him.”

“You haven’t said a word to Akaashi.”

“That’s different. I don’t know if Akaashi likes me back. It is _blatantly_ obvious that Kenma loves you.”

I snort. “He likes Hinata.”

“Yeah. I’m not saying he doesn’t. But he _loves_ you.”

“So do you, but _we’re_ not dating.”

“Different kind of love.”

“I’m Kenma’s best friend, but Hinata is his _romantic interest_.”

“If Kenma loves Hinata at all, let alone more than he loves you, I will shave my head.”

“Get shaving, owl boy.”

“Hell no, I’ve got no reason to.”

“Prove it.”

He grins at me, one of those Bokuto grins that always worries me, and slides off the counter. “I will. Don’t worry.”

“I’m worrying already,” I call after him as he dances out of the kitchen. “ _Worrying_!”

He doesn’t answer. I nearly break his plate.


	7. Kenma

“Kenma, I need help, what do I do if my boyfriend does something really nice for me?”

I sigh. “I have no idea, I don’t have a boyfriend.”

“What do you do when Kuroo does something nice for you?”

“He’s not my boyfriend.”

“Yeah. So what do you do?”

I sigh again. What was the last nice thing Kuro did for me? “Um, I fall asleep in bed with him?”

“ _What_? Last time Kuroo did something nice for you, you _slept with him_?”

“Yes. _Slept_. I closed my eyes and went to bed, and then he left. And then I bugged him about making pancakes and one-upped him in terms of who could be nicer to Koutarou. So, um, I guess I didn’t do anything.” Oh. I didn’t do anything.

“That’s… not what I had in mind.”

“I don’t wanna know what you had in mind.”

“Nope, you don’t. But that doesn’t solve my problem! Kageyama got me _roses_! _Roses_ , Kenma, _roses_! What am I supposed to do?”

“Say thank you?”

“I feel like I should throw him a party.”

“That’s probably overreacting.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Where is he now? Did he just give you the flowers and leave, or is he sitting there listening to you talk to me?”

“Uh, yeah, he gave them to me, and then blushed and ran off. I don’t really know where he is.”

I sigh. And sigh again. That was a two-sigh kind of sentence. “Maybe a thank-you card?”

“I still feel like a party is better.”

“Why’d you call me if you don’t actually wanna take my advice?”

“Because I thought you’d have better advice!”

“But I don’t.”

“I can tell! Maybe you’re right. I feel like a thank-you card is too formal, though.”

“Shoyo, I have no experience in _any of this_.”

“You’ve been living with Kuroo for four weeks now!”

“He’s not my boyfriend.”

“You keep saying that, but it keeps sounding a whole lot like bullshit.”

“It’s not.”

“Mm. But it _could_ be. If you told him you lo-oved hi-im,” he sings.

“Or it could all collapse around me. I’ve gotta go, Shoyo. I’ve got a test to study for, and you’ve got your boyfriend to hunt down.”

“Changing the subject!”

“I’m still right.”

He huffs. “Fine! But you _will_ get together with Kuroo!”

“Bye, Shoyo.”

“Bye!”

I hang up with a sigh, grab my stats book, and head out into the living room. Kuro is sitting upside down on the couch, feet hanging over the back.

“Can you help me study?”

“Yup. What’re we studying today?”

“Stats.”

He pulls his knees into his chest, rolls sideways, and swings his legs out from under him. He scooches over and pats the couch next to him. “Come, young grasshopper, and learn.”

I slide in next to him and put my books on the coffee table. “Kuro?”

“Yeah?”

I wrap my arms around him before my brain has time to catch up with the rest of me. “Thanks. For helping me last night.”

He hesitates for a second, but he hugs me back. He’s warm, so warm, and for a second, I close my eyes and pretend – pretend he’s my boyfriend, pretend he’s just given me roses, pretend he’s hugging me because he loves me so much he doesn’t wanna let me go. But he pulls in a deep breath, and I remember that he’s _not_ mine, and that he likes Kei. Not me.

I pull back.

“What’d Hinata want?”

I shrug. “He’s having boyfriend troubles.”

“Boyfriend troubles?”

“Tobio ran away.” I sigh. Life is so strange.

“Oh. Okay. Stats. What part of stats?”

I blink. Subject change? Why? “P-values.”

“What don’t you understand about them?”

“What they mean.”

“Okay.” He slides my notebook towards him. “What’s a null hypothesis?” He writes _null hypothesis_ at the top of the page.

I sigh. I hate every single term that ever came out of a stats classroom. Every. Single. One. “Well, all stats experiments are testing the difference between two groups. The null hypothesis says that there _is_ no difference.”

“Right.” He puts a checkmark next to _null hypothesis_ and reaches over to pat my head. “So. Is it actually possible to get two groups that end up with exactly the same data?” He writes down _possible to get same data?_

“No.”

“Why not?” He puts down another question mark.

I shrug. “If they’re testing medication, maybe someone was already getting better – or maybe a useful med combined with someone’s diet in a weird way and that made it useless. Everyone’s bodies and lives are different, so little variations can make a difference.”

“Yeah. So you do your experiment. You say, people on drug X lost 15 pounds –” he writes _X -15_ – “and people on drug Y lost 30 pounds –” he writes _Y -30_.

“Why y?”

“Why not y? Anyway, you’re smart, you know that even if the two drugs were equally useless you could end up with variations in the data. So what do you do?”

I stare at him.

He stares back.

He’s really beautiful. Oh god.

“Calculate the P-value?”

“Exactly!” He pats my head and writes down _P!!!!!_ “The P-value tells you what the likelihood is that you could get a 15-pound difference if the null hypothesis is true. It doesn’t tell you that the null hypothesis _is_ true, it just tells you what the probability is that you would get these results if it _were_ true. So if it’s low, that means it’s unlikely that you’d get these results if the product did nothing. If it’s high, it means that you could easily get these results if the product was useless. It’s not a guarantee, but it’s better than nothing.”

“That’s dumb.”

“Listen, I didn’t come up with this shit.” He passes me the pencil. “Your turn. Pick a problem.”

I pull my stats book towards me and settle in for the long haul.

Kuro talks me through multiple problems and no fewer than two (2) statistical theories. He sits close to me, his knee touching mine, shoulder bumping mine, hand brushing mine every time he takes the pencil from me. He’d probably be grossed out if he knew how much it _mattered_ – if he knew how much I wanted every touch, every bump, every brush. Would it freak him out if he knew that the only reason I actually pay attention to what he says instead of just listening to the sound of his voice is because he ruffles my hair whenever I get a question right?

Someday, someone’s gonna listen to his voice every day, live with it, come home to it. Someone who isn’t me. Kei? Well, if it’s gotta be anyone, I hope it’s Kei – I don’t hate him, but I don’t like him enough that I’d feel betrayed if he took Kuro from me.

“Zero-point-two.”

“Yeah!” He grins at me and bumps his fist into my shoulder.

He learned this stuff last year and still remembers it. What a dork.

If I thought he could be happy with me, I’d have already told him I loved him. But he can’t be. So I’ll make sure he _is_ happy, so at least when I’m alone I know he’s not alone too.

“What’s wrong?”

I glance at him. “Stats sucks.”

He stares at me. He knows I’m not telling him everything. What if he backs away again? What if he makes his way out of my reach, what if –

“Is it something to do with Hinata?”

I stare at him. “What?”

“Is – never mind. Don’t worry about it. Is there anything we haven’t covered?”

Never mind? Why wouldn’t he finish the question? I shake my head.

“Then I’ve gotta get some of my work done before practice.”

Panic rises in my throat as he stands – this isn’t normal. Something about this isn’t normal. He’s drifting away from me. I grab his wrist.

He looks down at me.

Not normal. Not normal. Usually, when he looks down at me like that, it’s all right, I feel safe, I feel like he’s paying attention to me, like he’s close to me. Not now. That’s not what it feels like now. I tighten my grip.

“Kenma?”

I shake my head. I don’t know why. _No_ isn’t an answer to _Kenma_. It’s just that the only thing I can think is _no_. No, no, no, no, no. No. Kuro. Please.

“Should I do my homework over here with you?”

No, no, no. No, no no, no, no, no. Oh god. He’s peeling my hand off his wrist. Don’t leave me. Not like this.

“Kenma.” He kneels down in front of me. “I’m going to go get my books, and then I’m going to come back. I will be back within two minutes, okay? Count. One. Two. Three.”

Four five six seven eight…

He comes back at seventy-eight, seventy-nine, eighty. Back within two minutes, like he said he’d be. Back. He came back, like he said he would.

He stuffs a pillow between me and the armrest so I’m leaning on it, drapes a blanket around my shoulders, and puts my DS in my hands. He sits down on my other side and cracks open a book – calc or biology? I’d bet my PS4 it’s calc. He’s holding a pencil instead of a pen. Must be calc. He glances at me before he begins. Worried? Annoyed? Curious? I can’t tell. He still feels – far away. But not so far. He’s still right there. He came back for me, like he said he would. He didn’t just – walk away. I can cope with this. I can handle this.

I start up my DS.

I’ve got Japanese homework.

A glance at the clock tells me I’ve got two hours until we have to leave for practice. That’s lots of time! Tons of time! So much time! I can play for half an hour.

Half an hour goes by _way_ too fast.

I glare at the clock as I stand up.

“You coming back?”

I nod and shuffle towards my room.

He asked, he cares. He – wants me to come back? I think.

I don’t know why he’s pulling away, but he’s coming back, just because I want him to. Just because I asked.

Kuro is the best and nicest and kindest person I know.

I retrieve my books and haul them over to the couch, squashing myself back into my place between Kuro and the pillow. I turn and press my forehead into his shoulder.

“Hey.”

I slide my arms around his waist.

He pats my head. “Hi.”

I stretch for my phone and pull open my text conversation with him.

_Thank you. I’m sorry. You’re awesome._

“Nothing to apologize for. But I _am_ awesome, thank you for recognizing my perfection.”

_3: <_

“Um. Apology accepted?”

_:3_

“You’re definitely the weirdest cat I know.”

_:3c_

He snorts.

I look up at him and put my hand under my chin.

“ _No_.”

I giggle.

“Christ.” He struggles out of my grasp. “I have homework to do! So do you!”

I let him go. He grins at me, I smile back, and we turn to our homework. It’s okay. It’s all okay. He feels close again.

But it happens again during practice.

He pulls away. I can practically see it happening. His eyes stop pausing on me. They pass me by like I’m not there. He skims over me and doesn’t come back.

I’m not doing this again.

I’m not. I’m not, I’m not, I’m not. I’m holding on.

I can’t – do anything. About it. Unless I talk to him. If he’s gonna keep doing it, I need to know why. And I won’t know why unless I ask him. And I can’t keep expecting him to comfort me. And I can’t keep expecting his comfort to help, not if he’s the source of the problem. And what happens if I can’t rely on him anymore? What if – what if, what if?

I pinch myself.

I have to talk to him. That means being functional when we get back to the apartment, and that means staying functional until we get there.

I’ll ask him, and he’ll say he’s doing it for some god-awful reason, and he’ll promise to stop. He’ll hug me and we’ll laugh and it won’t happen anymore. He’ll stop walking past me like I’m not there, not his best friend. I know this. I _believe_ this. So there’s no reason to panic. None. Absolutely none.

And yet, here I am. Panicking.

During break, I huddle in a corner and play on my DS. I need 200 more coins before I can even _consider_ fighting the boss for this level. Honestly, I should get more. I’ll need health serum, better armor, a new sword –

“Break’s over!”

I sigh and shut it off.

So. If I upgrade my armor, I’d get +5 defense, which would be nice. Buying new armor would get me +10, though. But I’d end up with a lower health supply – I only have so much money. If the better armor works, I won’t have any damage to heal. But if it doesn’t work, I’ll be dead.

My internal argument lasts through the rest of practice. It’s amazing, what a good distraction can do.

I play on my DS the whole way home. Kuro and Koutarou don’t try to talk to me. That’s good. I don’t want to lose my focus.

“Kuro?” I ask as we head inside.

“Mm?”

“Can I talk to you?”

“Sure, about what?”

I –

I keep my mouth shut. I don’t want – I don’t want to do this in front of Koutarou.

Kuro waits, patiently, for me to open my mouth, and I can’t.


	8. Kuroo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry about the total inconsistency of what time I post new chapters, it's based entirely on my work schedule and I'm a retail worker so yknow

Kenma’s eyes flicker over to Bo. It’s too focused a glance to be his usual sign of embarrassment.

He doesn’t want to talk in front of Bokuto.

All right, that’s all right. Doesn’t mean much.

I jerk my head towards my room and he follows me in. I let myself fall onto my bed. After much deliberation, Kenma sits down on the edge of my desk chair. Doesn’t mean much. He’s not _really_ in here all that often, right? Of _course_ he’d be uncomfortable, sitting in his best friend’s room. _Of course_.

Right.

I wait.

“Um.”

He’s picking at his nails, but he’s not looking at them – a sure sign he’d rather be on his DS. Or Vita. Or phone. Anything. His shoulders are slumped, his knees crawling up towards his chest. He doesn’t want to be doing this.

Something must be wrong.

This isn’t just about a crush. He’s not about to tell me he likes Hinata. That might be embarrassing, but it wouldn’t get _this_ kind of reaction.

“Kenma? You know you can tell me anything, right?”

“It’s – not a statement. More… a question.”

“You can ask me anything, too.”

“You’ll tell the truth?”

I open my mouth to say _yeah, of course_ , but – if he asks what I told Tsukki – “If I can.”

He closes his eyes. “Why do you keep pulling away from me?”

“W-what?” Christ, he looks _miserable_.

“I – I can feel it, sometimes, you just – you’re far away, you go too far away, I –” He starts shaking his head, pauses to breathe, with his knees pulled all the way up to his chest and his hands in his hair.

Guilt floods me. I didn’t think it was obvious, but of _course_ it was, Kenma watches people, he watches me, and he’s been watching me for over a decade now. If there’s anyone on this entire goddamn planet who would notice tiny changes in my behavior, it’s him, and it’s been _hurting_ him, _I’ve_ been hurting him, because I’m a selfish goddamn _fucker_ who doesn’t wanna deal with a bit of heartbreak.

I slide off my bed and I’m in front of him in two steps, gently removing his hands from his hair. “Kenma, I’m sorry, I won’t do it again, I –”

He slaps his hands over my mouth and shakes his head. “Not unless you’re going to explain.”

I close my eyes. I can’t. What am I supposed to say? _So that when you get a boyfriend, it doesn’t hurt me, because I’m so in love with you that seeing you with someone else would kill me?_ That’s not gonna happen. I can’t. I _can’t_.

But: which is worse? Hurt Kenma by refusing to explain, or tell him I love him and hope he’s willing to overlook it?

Hurting Kenma is _always_ the worse option.

Then, it’s obvious.

I take a deep breath and take Kenma’s hands from my mouth.

“Is it something to do with the thing you told Kei that you can’t tell me?”

I nod.

“Then never mind.”

“What?” I’m not allowed to apologize unless I explain, but I’m not allowed to explain?

“You said you won’t do it again. That’s – that’s all I need to know. If you don’t want to tell me, I can’t make you.”

He can’t? I was just about to, just because the alternative was hurting him. He _can_ just fine. “Are you sure?”

He shakes his head. “I wanna know. I wanna know what you told Kei that you can’t tell me, I wanna know why you – did – that, why you pulled away, but – I want you to tell me because you want to. If you don’t want to, I don’t wanna – I don’t – want to force – it’s your secret. If I make you tell me everything whether you want to or not, it doesn’t count as friendship. And – you’re my friend. My best friend. I trust you. So – don’t tell me. Not now. Tell me when you’re ready.”

I should just tell him now, I’m ready _now_ , I’m ready to tell him and let him judge me and at least then I’ll know where I stand –

But what if where I stand is too far away from him?

I sink to my knees, and he drops his feet to the floor so he can look at me. “I’m sorry, Kenma. I won’t do it again. I promise. I – don’t worry. I can’t keep secrets from you for too long. Just – not yet.”

He nods and runs his fingers through my hair. I drop my face into his lap and sigh.

What the hell is _his_ secret? ‘Cause I haven’t forgotten about that, about whatever it is he could tell Hinata but not me. I just don’t have any goddamn right to bug him about it when I won’t tell him _my_ secret. And in any case, he’s no better at keeping secrets from _me_ than I am from _him_. So he probably won’t last much longer, either.

I wrap my arms around his waist and give up. Clearly, I can’t try and take my heart back without him noticing, so why bother trying? Either I break my heart now and hurt him, or let him break it later, when he won’t be hurt and he’ll have someone else to fall back on, someone who isn’t pulling away from him like I will be. Kenma likes Hinata, and even if that doesn’t work out or fades, he’ll fall in love with someone else. And at some point, he’ll find someone who loves him back, and they’ll move in together and I can’t deal with that. It’s selfish, sure, but I can’t do that. And by then, it probably won’t bother Kenma much – he’ll have a shiny new boyfriend to distract him. I’ll be on call for the bad days, and the boyfriend will be there for all the good ones.

That’s not fair. Kenma wouldn’t do that. It would bug the _shit_ out of him. If it happens, it’ll be because of me. And I _can’t_ do that without an explanation. It’ll be impossible enough if he _knows_ why I’m backing away from him.

I grip him tighter.

“Kuro?”

“Hmm?”

“Are you okay?”

 _Well, breathing is unnecessarily difficult, ‘cause I’m thinking about you with a boyfriend who isn’t me and my chest is trying to squash my lungs. Also, my arms hurt, because you’re in them now, but you won’t be in them_ forever _, and that’s pretty much more than I can handle_. “Yeah, I’m good.”

He pats my head. “You don’t actually have to lie, you know.”

I snort.

“You know you can tell me anything, right? Or ask me. Anything.”

I let him go and lift my head up. At least I didn’t cry. I am strong. I am Superman. “Don’t worry, I will soon.”

He nods. He isn’t holding my gaze, but he isn’t avoiding it, either. His hands are still. He’s slouching but not slumping. He’s okay. Which is great, seeing as he had to comfort my shitty ass.

“Best friends forever, right?”

He nods and holds out his pinky. I wrap my pinky around his and we shake on it. Pinky swear. Friends forever.

He stands and pulls me up with him.

He deserves to be happy.

I could tell him, now. Right now. He’d know. He could decide what he’s willing to put up with. But the words stick in my throat. Not yet. Not _yet_. I’m not ready yet. I need to know he’s my best friend for a little while longer. Just a little while.

“Do we still have mochi in the freezer?”

“Um.” Do we? “No idea.”

“I want some.”

He tugs me out into the kitchen. Why he needs me to go with him, I don’t know, but I’m not complaining. Our pinkies are still linked. I’m not gonna unlink them.

Kenma stares into the mochi-less freezer like it has personally disappointed him. He shuts the door and turns around. “Koutarou,” he calls over my shoulder, “we’re going on a mochi run, wanna come?”

I frown. “We are?”

“Nah, I’ve got homework,” Bo calls back.

“Yes, we are,” he informs me. Raising his voice, he calls, “Okay, good luck. Get your keys,” he continues at a normal volume. “You’re driving.”

“I am?”

“I want mochi. You want mochi. It makes sense.”

“I do? It does?”

“Yes. Don’t argue.”

Ok. So. My options are: 1. Drive, get to hang out with Kenma alone for like half an hour, but no curling up and feeling dead inside until later, or 2. Refuse, leave Kenma hurt and alone, and go curl up and feel dead inside until tomorrow, at which point the guilt will kick in and life will be awful. Hmm. Let’s see. “All right.”

I grab my keys and my license and we head out to my car, Kenma sliding into the front seat and grabbing the AUX cord while I twist the key in the ignition. I grin at him and he grins at me and turns on The National. I take a deep breath and back out of the driveway. I’ve still got my best friend. Hinata can’t take this from me – the late-night mochi runs, the post-practice ice cream binges, sitting upside-down on the couch because Kenma doesn’t wanna look down at me while he talks to me – he can’t take that from me. Not yet, not now. And Kenma might call _him_ Shoyo, but _I’ve_ got a nickname, so who’s the _real_ winner here? Kenma calls _everyone_ by their first name. _I’m_ the winner.

Kenma sings in tune with the song while I scream at the top of my lungs – my English sucks, but maybe screaming hides it – and I might be speeding a little, but Kenma doesn’t say anything about it, and when I glance over at him, he’s watching me, smiling as he sings.

What an _idiot_. He’s doing this to make me feel better. And it’s _working_. I like driving, I like driving late at night, I like singing loudly, I like mochi, and I like him, and he fuckin’ knows it. Hell, I’ll willingly bet the entire apartment that he _knew_ the mochi was gone. Actually, I’ll bet everything I own that he’s the one who ate the last of it in the first place.

How is it possible that I keep falling more and more in love with him? Haven’t I hit the limit yet?

He laughs out loud when I point at him and sing, and the answer isn’t just no I have _not_ hit the limit, it’s that there _is_ no limit. None. I don’t know how _not_ to love him, or how to stop falling in love with him, over and over again, and for today, for tonight, for right now, that’s okay.

“I’ve been catching up on solfège,” he tells me as I park and turn down the volume. “It’s this way of – like – mentally figuring out what notes are supposed to sound like, so you can sing them and write a symphony without playing the whole entire thing. Everyone else knows it, and it’s so – important, and – _central_ , you can’t do anything without knowing solfège – and thank god my mom made me take piano lessons when I was younger, it’s basically the most important instrument, it makes me wish I had bigger hands.” He stares at his fingers in frustration. “I wish I had _your_ hands. Do you know how useful they’d be? You could cover an octave, easy. More, probably.”

I grin down at him. He’s so excited. “Are you gonna major in music?” I push the door open and wave him in before me.

He glances at me when we’re side by side again, confused. “I’m a programming major.”

“You could switch.”

“I’ve already taken a bunch of the classes, though.”

“Make it your minor. You like it, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Just not as much as music.”

He glances at me again. “Yeah.”

I shrug. “So, minor in programming, and major in music. It’s only the beginning of your sophomore year, it’s not a big deal. Or you could double major.”

“That sounds like too much work.”

“Then don’t double major.”

“But I like both things.”

“Then double major.”

He sighs. “ _This_ is too much work.”

“ _Life_ is too much work.”

He stares at the mochi selection. “I hate making choices.”

“You do it in games all the time.”

“Do you _know_ how many play-throughs I watch?”

I snicker. “Yeah, I do.”

“I need a play-through for this.”

“Go for both. You like both, it won’t take longer than just doing one, and you know you want to do both, so go for it.”

He reaches in and picks both chocolate and green tea. “You’re right. Why pick chocolate or green tea when I could have both?”

I roll my eyes and he giggles. My heart leaps.

“Okay, okay, I’ll talk to my guidance counselor.”

“Cool.”

He puts the mochi on the counter and goes for his wallet. I hip-bump him out of the way and hand over my card.

“Kuro, it’s my turn to pay.”

“It’s called charity, Kenma. Accept it.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m a charitable person.”

“That’s a lie.”

“Because I can.”

“You always can.”

I thank the cashier and carry the bag out. “Because I made you sad and I don’t know what else to do about it.”

“Oh.” He reaches into the bag. I stop walking and hold the bag open for him. It’s late. No one’s driving around the parking lot. We’ll live.

He opens both boxes and takes one of each. “Well, then, this is your apology, and I accept it and forgive you.” He rips off a piece of the chocolate mochi with his teeth.

“That’s –”

“I’m not gonna be angry at you for the next billion years,” he says through the ice cream. “Accept my forgiveness, Kuro. Accept it!” He pushes the half-eaten mochi at my face. “Accept!”

I eat it out of his hand. He returns to his green tea mochi, holding it in both hands and taking mouse-sized bites.

I open the car door for him. “Don’t get powder on my seatbelt.”

He starts licking his fingers and I close the door and walk the long way around the car. I’m _not_ thinking about his tongue, about his lips, about – not. Not thinking about it. Christ.

“Not taking control over the music this time?”

He holds up powder-covered fingers.

“True.”

I put on Exo. Kenma looks at me weird, but he knows all the words. All of them. So. Who’s the _real_ fan here? Answer: it’s both of us. We’re both fans. Whether Kenma admits it or not.

He sings the whole way home. I love him.

I hold the door open for Kenma when we get home – he’s walking around with his powdery hands held out in front of him like he’s diseased. I put the mochi away while he washes his hands, and he hugs me wordlessly before heading to bed.

Dishes need to be washed, and I’m halfway through them when Bokuto comes slinking in.

“Still awake?”

“I’ve got a good fifteen minutes. Are you and Kenma a _thing_ now?”

I give him the sharpest glance I’ve got. “No.”

“Why not?”

“’Cause he doesn’t like me like that.”

“You keep saying that, and you keep being wrong.”

“Right back at you.”

“What’d he want to talk about?”

I shut off the water. “I’ve been… emotionally distancing myself. From him.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Yeah, he noticed, and it hurt him. I fucked up, Bo. I fucked up.”

He runs his hand through his hair. “You’re an idiot, dude. Friend to friend, bro to bro, you’re a fucking _idiot_.”

“I know.”

“He loves you! I’m telling you, dude, he loves you as much as I love Akaashi. More, maybe, and you _know_ that’s saying something. And you love him – don’t argue that one, ‘cause you fucking _can’t_. Just tell him! You’re _literally_ suffering for no goddamn reason!”

“You haven’t asked Akaashi out yet.”

“It’s – different.”

“He loves you too, you know. He does.”

He hesitates, staring at me, wide-eyed and vulnerable, and then the softness disappears. “Fine. I’ll ask Akaashi out, and if he says yes, you’ll tell Kenma you love him. Trust goes both ways.”

“No, because Akaashi’ll say yes, and Kenma’ll say _what the fuck_.”

He throws his hands up. “If you’re gonna be a dumbass, I won’t stop you. Just remember, you’re hurting Kenma, too.”

He stalks out before I can come up with anything to say about _that_ bullshit. How the hell does he always get the last word?

I give up on the dishes. It’s late. I’m tired. I’ve got school tomorrow. I wanna kiss Kenma and I can’t. Life sucks.


	9. Kenma

I wake up to the smell of burnt pancakes.

I find my way into the kitchen, rubbing the blurriness out of my eyes. When was the last time Koutarou burnt pancakes?

“… Wait! Wait! Not yet!”

“They’re gonna burn!”

“Trust me, they won’t! Wait!”

Kuro hovers over the frying pan, spatula in one hand and plate in the other. Koutarou watches over his shoulder, anxiously drumming his fingers on the countertop. “Wait… wait for it… now, try it now!”

Kuro eases the spatula under a pancake – “it slid under so easy!” “Yeah, idiot, ‘cause you _waited_!” – and flips it over. And the next, and the next.

“How do I know!”

“ _Wait_!”

“But how do I _know_!”

“Try – gently, _gently_ – sliding the spatula under it. If it doesn’t go, don’t push it. _That’s_ how you know – ok, plate ‘em!”

Kuro flips three pancakes onto the plate, Koutarou examining each one as it lands.

“They’re perfect! I’m the _best_ teacher! Hey hey _hey_!”

“Time to wake up Kenma, his pancakes are – oh. Morning, Kenma!” Kuro says, seeing me in the doorway. He grabs the plate from Koutarou and holds it out to me. “My first batch of pancakes! Taste test them!”

I glance at the trash, where a burnt pancake sticks out of the bag. Gotta take the trash out.

“Okay, my first unburnt batch of pancakes!”

He couldn’t be more obvious if he said _pay attention to me_. I take the plate and rip off a piece. No time for syrup, Kuro needs to know what I think immediately.

I hesitantly put it in my mouth. There’s a good few burnt ones in that garbage bag.

It’s good.

I set the plate down so I can give him two thumbs up.

He grins. “I got the Kenma seal of approval!”

“Ready to make the rest of the batter?”

He huffs. “I guess.”

“What, were you only gonna make them for Kenma?”

Kuro glares at Koutarou and pours batter on the griddle. Koutarou smiles back.

I sigh and finish my pancakes. They’re really good. And Kuro made them for me, I think. No, he wanted to wake me up after he made the first batch, I _know_ he made them for me. Why? Does it matter? Do I have to question everything?

Back to the pancakes. Those don’t need questioning. And they’re honestly delicious. I’m not even gonna ruin these with syrup. These are special. My heart flutters. He made these just for me.

“Damn, Kenma, those must be really good, you don’t smile at _my_ pancakes.”

I flush. I was smiling?

“Leave him alone, Bokuto. He’s enjoying his pancakes.”

“Just wondering!”

I put a hand on my heart. _Stop beating like that_. He’s not mine. He’s just making pancakes for a friend. That’s all I am.

My heart aches. I – everything feels empty.

I fill myself up with pancakes. It’s not the same, but it’s close.

The first half of the day goes by too quickly. I’m lonely, and Kuro’s got a test, so he can’t text me, but – I’ve got a stats test later. There’s not a whole lot that can slow the clock down when a stats test is coming up.

I leave music class and head to my meeting with my music professor from last year. She’s been helping me make up for the many years I’ve spent totally ignoring the existence of music theory. I love her for it.

“Good morning, Kenma,” she says cheerfully as she lets me in.

“Morning, Professor.”

“Make yourself comfortable, I’ve just gotta finish off this email and then I’ll be ready to go.”

I pull out my notebook and flip to the most recent page.

“Emails are such a pain,” she says, shaking her head. “I miss the days when we didn’t even use them – although, my phone rang much more often, and if I missed a call it was a much bigger pain than letting an email sit for a couple hours.”

I nod.

“Is it nice out today? I’ll open the window, if you don’t mind?”

I shake my head.

She returns to her seat and wheels over to me. “You have the neatest notes I’ve ever seen, and I’ve seen quite a few. It’s impressive.”

“My friend helps me study before tests, but he can’t do much if he can’t read my notes. He’s never taken music classes, so he can’t just go off of his old notes, like he does with the rest of my classes.”

“Why not study with someone else, if he doesn’t know music?”

“I’d rather study with him. I always have.”

“Does it help, even though he doesn’t understand this?”

“He’s smart. He figures it out.”

“He sounds like a wonderful friend.”

“He is.”

She’s smiling at me, but – like she knows something. What does she know? I look back down at my notebook and pick up my pen. She begins without further comment. I love her for that, too.

Twenty minutes later, I leave her office and head into the piano room downstairs. My phone buzzes before I make it there.

_Umgonawkejnfdkjncaofklndm, test kicked my ass today. Im dropping out_

He probably did better than he thinks. He always does. _You love calc_

_I hate tests_

_You’re a huge nerd_

_Tests can smd_

_Super big dork_

_Where are you, I need to tell you to your face that I am NOT a dork I am in fact a jock as shown by the fact that I never wear anything except volleyball clothes_

_Sometimes you wear Koutarou’s jacket, that’s not volleyball_

_Only cause you’ve always got my jacket, so it doesn’t count._

I can’t argue, I’m wearing his jacket right now. _In the music building, room 211, it’s like way in the back, come here I’m bored_

_Omw_

_It’s divided into little rooms, I’m in room D_

I set my phone on the side of the piano. Most of the people in my classes have been taking music theory for years, so even though I’m taking basic courses, my professors move from topic to topic too quickly for me to really _get_ it. No one ever explained the ‘circle of fifths’ to me. Last time I took a piano lesson, all three of those words were too big for me.

The door creaks. Kuro shuts it behind him, looks around for another chair, finds none, and slides onto the bench, scooching me over so he has room. “Life sucks.”

“Yeah.”

He sighs. “So what are you doing?”

“Chords.”

“Yeah.”

“Three notes all at once.”

“Sure.”

He’s staring at me. Smirking.

I sigh. “Put your finger here.” I point at middle C.

“Oh, god, I’m gonna break it.”

“No. Press the key.”

“This isn’t _my_ homework.”

I pick up his hand and put his thumb on the key. “Push.”

“If it breaks, you’ll have to pay for it.”

I push his thumb down for him. My hands are so tiny, next to his. Lord.

“The piano’s cursed now.”

“Right. So that was one note. So put your third finger here.” I point at E. He puts his second finger there. “No, third finger. Middle finger.” He switches. “Push down.” He shakes his head. I push his fingers for him. “That’s an interval. And your pinky –” I reach around him to point at G. He smells nice. “There. Now press all three at once.”

He pushes, lightly, like he’s actually scared he’ll break it. He grins at me when the sound dies away.

“That’s a chord.”

“Cool.”

He sits with me while I practice, watching my hands as I play through scales and chords and stretch my fingers across octaves. He heads out when I do and walks me to class. I’m pretty sure he’s only bothering so that he can quiz me the whole time. “So the P value is…?”

“It’s the probability that you could obtain the given results if the null hypothesis were true.”

“Right. And how do you find that?”

“You organize the data…”

He drills me up until the very last possible minute. I would absolutely fail every single test I took if it weren’t for Kuro.

I fly through the test, thanks to Kuro’s training and my phone buzzing unceasingly against my leg. It can’t be Kuro – he doesn’t text me when I’m taking a test. Koutarou? Unlikely. There’s not a lot he needs or wants to tell me that would require this many texts. Shoyo? The most likely candidate, but what does he want? Is something wrong? What if something’s wrong?

By the time I hand the test in and walk out the door, I’m actually nervous. Is someone dying? Already dead? What the fuck is going on?

It’s our roommate group text. There are lots of exclamation points.

I scroll to the top and –

Oh.

It’s a picture of Koutarou and Akaashi kissing.

_IIIIIIIIIIII FUCKIN DID IT I DID IT HE SAID YEAH!!!!!!!!_

_DUDEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!_

_AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!_

_AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!_

_AHHHHHOUAHDFLJKNKLJNALKJFND LKJNKJMADF_

_AIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE_

_He says he’s been waiting for a long time_

_He has been, bro_

_Oh shit_

_P much lol_

_I’m glad I listened when you told me he liked me tho lmao I wouldn’t have had the courage to ask him out otherwise_

_Yeah I know lots of things. Everything really_

_Not everything aha you’re not exactly the epitome of wisdom_

_“epitome” wow who taught you that one_

_my BOYFRIEND EYYYYYYYYYYYYY!!!!!!!!!_

_AYYYYYYY!!!!!!!!!!! Are you ignoring him to text us rn_

_No he went to the bathroom and hasn’t come back yet_

_There’s no way he’s taking this long to pee, who’s he texting lmao “guess who finally got his shit together and asked me out”_

_Aha I can think of some other people who could be texting that right now, but they’re all idiots. Anyway where’s Kenma? Why isn’t he congratulating me_

_He’s taking a test_

_This is more important_

_Probably but how’s he supposed to know, he’s taking a test and can’t look at his phone_

_Damn. This is like a paradox_

_I don’t think it is, really_

_Kinda_

_Nah not really dude_

_Welp. I tried_

_Yeah you did but maybe we should stop texting cause we’re probably bugging the shit out of him while he’s taking a test_

_Oh yeah good point dude we should def stop_

_Yeah that means you gotta stop texting_

_You just texted_

_,,,,,....._

I sigh. _Congratulations, Koutarou, I’m glad you finally asked!! And yeah you were a little distracting during my test but it’s ok this is important_

Nothing.

Amazing. Of _course_ they stop texting as soon as I’m done with my test.

Kuro texts back after a few minutes, though. _How much you wanna bet Akaashi just got out of the bathroom_

Oh. _Yeah, that would make sense_

_Ready to go home?_

_Doesn’t Koutarou have another class?_

_Hold up._

I wait. Why wouldn’t Koutarou have his last class? He didn’t say it was canceled. Maybe my memory’s getting bad.

_Akaashi says he’ll drive Bo home tonight. Meet you at the car?_

_Yeah._

“How’d you know?” I ask when I slide into the car.

Kuro glances at me. “They’ve both been waiting for years, of _course_ Bokuto’s going home with Akaashi.”

“Oh.” I’ve been waiting for Kuro for years – well, not _waiting_ , but – pining. What would _I_ do if Kuro told me he loved me?

It feels like I’ve been punched in the chest. I’m – not thinking about – how – unlikely – no.

“You okay?”

I nod.

He ruffles my hair. “You can tell me when you’re ready.”

I close my eyes. I’ll have to tell him eventually. I’m no good at keeping secrets from him. “Okay.” Just not now. Soon. But not now.

“How’d the test go?”

“All right. I knew how to answer all the questions, and all my answers made sense, so I think I did okay.”

He grins at me. “Only okay?”

I let myself smile back a little. “Pretty good.”

“Good.”

He doesn’t bother putting music on, and I don’t go for the AUX cord, so we drive home in silence. It’s okay, though. Better than okay. Pretty good. Being silent with Kuro isn’t awkward. And as long as he’s got his eyes on the road, I can watch him as much as I want.

He’s really, really beautiful.

His hair is messy, his eyes are gold, his face is more familiar to me than my own is – right now, he’s mine. Just for now. He glances over at me and smirks at me and it’s mine, that was just for me.

It’s so easy to pretend he loves me.

It stays easy when we get home. We flop down on the couch next to each other and end up lying on each other, and I know, I know he does it with Koutarou too, but not – he always puts his feet in Koutarou’s lap, not his head, and it would be so easy, to just – bend down and kiss him, if I could.

Even when Koutarou gets home, pulling Keiji behind him, it doesn’t change. I’m lying with my head on the armrest and Kuro’s got his head on my stomach and Keiji raises an eyebrow at me and Koutarou exchanges a glance with Kuro – that definitely means something, right? It means this isn’t just how he treats everyone, it means that for now, for right now, I can pretend – and then Koutarou tugs Keiji into his room and it’s just the two of us again. I’m not moving. Even when I get tired. If I tell him I’m tired, he’ll make me go to bed, and – I can’t pretend, tomorrow morning. I won’t let myself. I’ve gotta get used to losing him at some point.

When the morning comes, though, I wake up in my bed, still in my clothes, still in Kuro’s jacket – he carried me to bed. That – makes it harder.

But it’s Tuesday already. There’s only a few days until I have to sit there while Kuro flirts with Kei. I can’t go from denial to acceptance that quickly. It won’t be possible to pretend, then, when it’s right in front of my face, where I can’t avoid it.

Tuesdays are hard for that, though. Koutarou has his psychologist appointments on Tuesdays, so he drives separately, and I get a good hour alone with Kuro, and that’s just the time in the car. He watches me play Kingdom Hearts II when we get home, shouting all the wrong advice. It doesn’t work. I’ve played this game too many times. Even when he nudges me and tries to knock me over, it doesn’t work. I know what I’m doing. I laugh and nearly kiss him. Koutarou comes in just in time to stop me, because he’s a wonderful human being. He sits there with us for the rest of the night. I love roommate bonding.

Tuesdays are hard, so I forgive myself the wasted day. I’ll do better tomorrow.

Wednesday, Koutarou announces that he’s spending the night with Keiji. He packs up his meds and drives separately.

Kuro spends his break with me in the piano room again.

“What’s an octave?”

“It’s – like – the same note, but – here.” I play middle C and high C. “The same note, but at a different pitch. Where’d you hear the word _octave_?”

“You, you said I’d be able to play one really easily, ‘cause I’ve got big hands.” He puts his hand over mine and pushes down, playing the interval. “I can definitely stretch farther, though. What’s this called?” He stretches his hand across ten keys.

It takes me a minute to get over him touching my hand, because I’m pathetic. “No idea, honestly.”

He laughs. I don’t even care. It’s not a mean laugh.

He doesn’t take his hand back right away. Doesn’t that usually mean something? Why doesn’t it mean anything?

We go home together and spend the night doing homework, sitting right next to each other on the couch, thighs practically touching, like there isn’t absolutely enough room for us to put half a meter between us.

Things are getting desperate. If I have to watch him with Kei, feeling the way I do now, I will die. I can’t do that. My heart will break into tiny little pieces that’ll puncture my lungs and fracture my ribs. Tomorrow’s my last hope.

Thursday morning, I wake up to pancakes.

I’m almost angry at Kuro for making them. Doesn’t he know I have to get over him by tomorrow? Doesn’t he know that pancakes – pancakes he personally made for me, and there’s no way it could be for Koutarou, ‘cause he’s not even here, and Kuro would usually just make himself cereal, he doesn’t care if he skips pancakes for a day – are special, they mean something, they mean the space he fills in my heart gets just a little bit bigger, they mean I’m gonna be in a whole lot more pain come tomorrow night.

By Thursday night, I’m practically panicking, which only makes things worse – Kuro worries about me. I tell him I need to be alone, and he goes, but – he was so worried. _Is_ so worried, present tense, because I know that right now he’s sitting out in the living room worrying about me. Because he’s a good person. I shove my face into my mattress. I love him and I love him and I love him. Oh god, I have to tell him, I have to tell him so he knows. He always understands. But – it’ll be worse, once I’ve told him and know for a fact he doesn’t love me. I won’t be able to pretend, after that. I can’t tell him yet. Not yet.

But he’s sitting out there, worrying about me, because I keep pushing him away, the same thing he was doing to me and promised never to do again, and he doesn’t know why I’m freaking out and making him leave me alone and it’s not fair. He’s my best friend and it’s not fair to him, not at all.

I head past him into the kitchen and grab a chocolate mochi out of the freezer.

He cocks an eyebrow at me when I hand it to him.

“An apology.”

Why does he look so – confused?

“I’ll tell you. Soon. Just not now.”

He rips the mochi in half and gives one piece to me. “Me too.”

Why is he giving me half?

“Since I haven’t told you yet, either.”

We eat our halves. Apologies and promises, apologies and promises. Soon. When one of us starts it, the other will have to end it. Soon. Just – not now. Not yet. Not today.

Friday dawns bright and beautiful and terrifying.

Classes speed by. Why are they going so fast? Don’t they know what I’ll have to deal with tonight? I don’t even like watching Kuro and Kei together during morning practice, and that’s when I can justify it – they’re practicing together, they have to, and they’re friends, why wouldn’t they talk during practice? But Kei’s never been to our apartment before, and he’s going to come in, he’s going to invade it, and my little world with Kuro won’t be just ours anymore.

Koutarou’s happy on the way home. “Tsukki and Yams are bringing popcorn! And Hinata and Kageyama are bringing soda, right?”

“They are?” I ask.

“Yeah, aren’t you the one who told me?”

“No.”

“You must’ve, how else would I know?”

“How _do_ you know? I didn’t tell you, because Shoyo didn’t tell me.”

He waves a hand. “Who knows? Anyway, we can have a party.”

“All it takes is popcorn and soda?”

“Yup!”

Kuro frowns. Is he not excited? What’s wrong? Is it something with Kei? Oh, god. Please, let him be happy. If he spills his heart out to me and says he’s sad that Kei doesn’t love him back and he’s heartbroken, I might actually have to jump out a window. It’s selfish, I guess – I know – but – I can’t. It’ll be hard enough to watch him be happy with someone else, but to watch him be sad and alone would be worse.

“Ready?” Kuro asks me as we head inside.

I shrug.

“If it gets to be too much, cover for me – I’ll light the place on fire and we can run away and find someplace quiet.”

I smile at him. That would be nice.

I take a deep breath. There’re gonna be a lot of people here. I don’t know Kei or Tadashi very well, and I’m not Tobio’s biggest fan. That’s a lot to deal with, even without watching Kei and Kuro.

I exhale. I’m not ready. I should’ve tried harder, I should’ve – should’ve – done something. I don’t know. But God, I’m not ready to stop pretending he loves me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have more [depressing](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=330UqSBEXaU) [songs](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=81yl_r5lT4w) by The National for you!! every time I hear any of their music I'm like "ah yes kuroken" cause I straight up wrote at least half this fic while listening to their music so yknow


	10. Kuroo

Kenma looks _really_ freaked out.

“Ready?”

He shrugs.

“If it gets to be too much, cover for me. I’ll light the place on fire and we can run away and find someplace quiet.” Security deposit be damned, I’ll resort to arson if it’ll make Kenma feel better.

On the other hand, did that sound a little bit too gay? I mean, just about _everything_ I say sounds gay. _I’m_ gay. But did it sound a little too _specifically_ gay? Specifically, as in, for Kenma?

He smiles at me. Well, hey, at least he didn’t notice. Maybe all the super gay shit I pull around him just goes totally unnoticed ‘cause it’s normal at this point. Christ, when was the last time I even _tried_? When was my last one-night stand?

Seeing Kenma with Hinata is gonna _kill_ me.

My chest feels tight.

And Hinata’s having _boyfriend troubles_. Just in time for him to spend multiple hours with Kenma. Amazing.

Right. I’m not thinking about this. I’m thinking about why the fuck Bokuto is carrying half his bedding into the living room. “Why are you bringing half your goddamn bedding into the living room?”

Bo drops his armload and huffs at me. “We have a couch and two chairs. That’s enough seating for five people. There will be eight of us.”

“So?”

“So, three people are gonna have to sit on the floor, which isn’t as comfortable as it could be.”

“You _like_ sitting on the floor.”

“So? That doesn’t mean it has to be uncomfy.”

“I don’t think that’s a word.” Kenma disappears into his room. Is something wrong?

“It is now. Fight me.”

“If you want me to.”

“No, don’t, you’ll aim for the face, and I need to be as pretty as Akaashi.”

I snort. “Not possible.”

“Hey!”

Kenma appears carrying all three of his pillows. He dumps them on the floor next to Bo’s stuff and looks at me.

I narrow my eyes at him. “Is that a challenge?”

“No. Go get your pillows, though. I don’t wanna sit on a hard floor.”

“Why are you sitting on the floor? Hinata can.”

“The hosts should sit on the floor and offer seating to guests.”

“Where’d you learn that?”

“It’s called etiquette.”

“What the fuck is that?”

“Manners, Kuro. These are _manners_.”

“I never learned those.”

“I know.”

“Damn. Rude, Kenma.”

“Says the guy who doesn’t know what manners are.”

“Exactly. So it means more.”

“Is that how it works?”

“Yep.”

“Hey! What happened to getting blankets!” Bokuto interrupts.

Kenma and I glance at each other, turn to face Bokuto, and salute him.

“Yes sir,” we chorus.

Kenma leads the march to our bedrooms. We split up at our doors and meet up again once we’ve got blankets.

“Why’re you moving the couch?” I ask as I add my offerings to the pile.

Bo straightens up and looks over his shoulder so he can roll his eyes at me. “There’s not enough room between the table and the TV for all the pillows and blankets, but we can’t just take out the table, we need that for the popcorn. So we’ve gotta push the whole thing back.”

“Duh.”

“Duh.”

“Wasn’t this supposed to be roommate bonding?”

“It _is._ ”

“Are they all moving in with us?”

He shrugs and starts muttering to himself.

All righty then.

If he wants to move Hinata in, he can help move me out.

Honestly, though, he probably wants _Akaashi_ to move in. That makes sense, actually. It’d be nice to have him here; then we wouldn’t have to worry about Bo coming and going from here and Akaashi’s place in time to go to sleep, or about him bringing his meds, and there would be three of us to remind him to take said meds. The rent would be split between four of us instead of three. I like Akaashi. Kenma likes him, too, thanks to the Toilet Incident. It’s a good idea.

The _real_ question is, when is Bokuto gonna broach the topic himself?

Hmm. Probably not for a while. We’ve got a 12-month lease, and we’ll probably be here for another year, until we graduate, so Akaashi’s got plenty of time to move in. On the other hand, Akaashi’s probably also on a 12-month lease, so unless he can find someone to replace him, he won’t be able to leave until the lease is up. That gives Bokuto tons of time to fret over it. Good. If he’s worrying about that, he might not bug me about Kenma.

Kenma, who is currently watching me, because I zoned out while staring at him and frowning.

I tug him towards me so I can whisper. “How long d’you think it’ll be before Bo asks us to take Akaashi in?”

His gaze slides away. “Two months?”

“That quick?”

“Keiji just has to find someone willing to take his place on the lease, and then mention to Koutarou that there’s someone moving in whom he doesn’t really wanna deal with. Suddenly, Koutarou swoops in to save the day, with an offer of another place. On the other hand, Keiji might have difficulty finding someone so quickly, so – two months.”

“Hey! Stop whispering sweet nothings into each other’s ears! Set up some blankets and pillows, they gotta be comfy!”

I straighten up to glare at Bo. He glares right back. Kenma starts arranging pillows. I sigh and join him. “You give in too easily.”

He shrugs. “Koutarou’s in a mood. We could argue, but he’ll feel better, faster, if we just arrange the pillows.”

Oh. “You’re right.”

“I know.”

A few of the blankets end up on the couch and chairs, supplementing the two blankets already on the couch, but the rest stay on the floor. Kenma layers them and surrounds the whole thing with pillows, leaving a couple extra blankets to the side so he can sit under them. Bo leaves us alone – Akaashi called him and he shut himself up in his bedroom. Making _us_ do all the work while _he_ flirts with his boyfriend. Nice.

We’ve got a whole lotta pillows out here.

“Have you considered a pillow fort?” I ask Kenma.

“Too many people.”

“Ah.”

I consider.

He considers.

We look at each other.

“Right, so if we use the couch itself as the back –”

Twenty minutes later, we’ve got the couch turned around and the two chairs strategically placed by the sides of the couch, but closer to the TV. Blankets are draped over the backs of all three, tucked into the sides where the armrests meet the backs. We’ve got a couch cushion under all the blankets, holding up the center point, and pillows against the back of the couch.

“Right,” I stage-whisper as we curl up in our nest, “we’re in the hold of a ship, ‘cause there are pirates – they boarded our ship, the evil scalawags –” Kenma starts giggling – “and we came down to hide, ‘cause you’re – the prince, and I’m your knight, and I’m sworn to protect you, and we made the decision to hide instead of fight, ‘cause even if making a stand would be braver, we’d still end up dead, and you _have_ to get back to your country, you’re the only heir, what would happen if you died?”

“Are the pirates gonna find us?” He stage-whispers back, pulling his knees into his chest.

“No – actually, yeah, they are, ‘cause pirates are cool. They think they can get a pretty good ransom outta your parents, and they haven’t found you, so they’re gonna keep searching ‘til they do.”

“Will they be nice to us?”

“Not at first, but you grow on them. Eventually, the pirate king becomes your friend, and offers to take you on a tour of the world so you can enjoy the freedom of the sea.”

“And I say, _only if my loyal knight and best friend can come with me,_ and he agrees, because he understands that true friendship doesn’t happen often. What happens to my kingdom?”

“Your sister offers to take over.”

“I have a sister? I thought I was the only heir.”

“It’s patrilineal, but since you’re friends with a pirate king now, you can force them to put your sister on the throne – which she’s always wanted, although she was never mean about it – so she’s happy and you’re happy and we’re all happy.”

“Wait, wait, we got too far ahead – the pirates haven’t found us yet.”

“Right, right. So, we’re hiding, making no noise –” Kenma and I both hold up a finger to our lips, hushing each other – “and the pirates start coming down the stairs. And then they say –”

“Ohoho?” Bo says from across the room.

I choke.

“And you say?” Kenma prompts.

“Oho _ho_ ho?” I respond.

Bokuto appears on the edge of the fort.

“The pirates found us! I’ll defend you, Kenma!” I dive towards him, watching Bo over my shoulder. My foot catches on our support pillar and the cushion falls on us, bringing the blankets with us. “The deck is falling in!” I yell, making a protective cage around him with my arms as he shakes with laughter.

He’s so close to me, literally in my arms, his face three centimeters away from mine, flushed and giggling, and I – just – would kissing his nose be considered too gay? I just wanna kiss his nose. It’s cute. _He’s_ cute.

The doorbell rings. I jump, overbalance, and fall over, taking him with me. He lands on top of me and freezes, staring into my eyes, all of his weight resting on my body. One hand creeps up to touch my cheek and now _I’m_ frozen, oh god, all he has to do is lower his head a little, all _I_ have to do is raise my head a little – he’s _right there_ –

“Kenma?”

Kenma jumps and looks away from me, towards the source of the voice, that fucking _voice._ I _hate_ Hinata, he can’t just –

Kenma jumps and rolls off of me, lifting the edge of the blankets. “Hey, Shoyo.”

I stop that whole entire train of thought before it even leaves the station. He _can_ just. And I don’t hate Hinata. Probably. Y’know what, why even bother stopping this train of thought? It’s probably going someplace where I can complain without shame.

“Was that a pillow fort?”

“Yeah. I guess we should take it down, though. I didn’t know you guys were gonna be here this early.”

“Didn’t you text him when we left?” Kageyama asks as I wiggle out from under the blankets.

“I –” Hinata gapes at me for a second. What, is something wrong with my face? “I – yeah, I did.”

Kenma pulls out his phone. “Oh. Whoops. I haven’t been checking my phone.”

Hinata stares at me. I wipe my mouth as discreetly as possible. I haven’t even eaten anything in, like, four hours, though, there can’t be food on my mouth. Is it my hair? I run my fingers through it.

“Aren’t you always on your phone?” Kageyama’s asking.

Hinata turns back to the conversation. “Yeah, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you without _something_ in your hands, except when we’re actually in the middle of a match.”

I pull the blankets out of their armrest moorings and start rearranging the furniture. If there’s something up with my hair, everyone’ll just have to deal with it. I’m beautiful just the way I am.

“I was busy.”

“Making a pillow fort?”

“Yeah.”

“With Kuroo?”

“Yeah.”

Yeah, jackass. With _me_. Why’re you asking, Mr. Boyfriend Troubles?

Bo starts helping me with the chairs, but the doorbell rings again and he runs off to admit Tsukki and Yams to our little party, taking, like, five bags of popcorn off their hands. I check my phone. Yep – a text from half an hour ago, saying they were on their way. Whoops.

Tsukki nods at me. “Got my text?”

“Just now, yeah.” It’s weird to see his hands outside of his pockets when he’s not texting – he’s got his fingers loosely laced with Yamaguchi’s. They’re pretty cute.

“Been…” his eyes roam over the disaster on the floor. “making a pillow fort?”

“Yup.”

“Aren’t you too old for that?”

“Respect your elders.”

“If you’re not old enough to have back pain when you move a couch, you’re not old enough for me to respect, honestly.”

I clutch at my back. “Oooh, shit, that hurts, I gotta go get my walker. Wow. Pain. Respect me.”

Yams laughs. “Tsukki, weren’t you wearing a dinosaur onesie, like, yesterday?”

Tsukki’s eyes roll so far back in his head he might actually be able to see his brain.

“Damn, adult sized? Where’d you buy it? I want one.”

Bokuto dives for the door practically before the doorbell rings. “Akaaaaashi!”

“Need help replacing the blankets?” Yams asks over the kissing sounds coming from the doorway.

“Most of them go on the floor, honestly. Not enough seating for all of us.”

Between the three of us, we get the blankets set up again.

“Shit! Almost forgot to finish the popcorn!”

“No screwing on the kitchen counters,” I yell as Bo and Akaashi disappear into the kitchen.

Bo pokes his head around the doorway to stick his tongue out at me. “Not enough space.”

“You’re just not trying hard enough.”

He glances at the counter. “Well…”

“No! No, no, I’m kidding, no!”

He laughs and disappears.

“Should you go in there? Just in case?” Hinata asks nervously.

“Nope.”

“Are you sure?”

“If they’re not, they’re not. If they are, I don’t wanna see it.”

Kenma huffs. “Koutarou, do we have a copy of Ghostbusters or should I pirate it?” he calls into the kitchen.

“Pirate it,” Bo answers.

Kenma heads off into his room and returns with his computer, sitting cross-legged on the floor as he waits for it to connect to the Wi-Fi.

Kageyama settles himself into one of the armchairs, and Hinata sits in his lap, exercising his Shorty Privilege to sit on someone without blocking their view. That doesn’t look much like boyfriend troubles to _me_. Unless it’s an act? I’ve known couples who looked absolutely fine in public, even when they were ripping each other to pieces in private.

Ah well. If Hinata’s in an armchair, Kenma can’t sit next to him. Yay.

“How long does it take to make a bag of popcorn?” Yams asks nervously as he situates himself on the couch.

“I think he had two or three bags left.”

“Oh.”

“If they’re fucking on the counter, I’ll bleach it, I promise,” I reassure him. He’s actually worried. Amazing.

Akaashi comes out of the kitchen with two bowls. “Nothing’s happening on the counter, I swear.”

Hinata and Tsukki hold their hands out and receive a bowl each.

“You can’t eat it until the movie starts, Shoyo,” Kenma says as Hinata shoves an entire handful of popcorn in his mouth.

Kageyama slaps a hand over Hinata’s mouth. “ _Don’t_ answer until you’re finished chewing.”

Hinata huffs at him, but swallows it all down before he says, “why not?”

“You’ll eat all of it and be sad all movie long.”

Kageyama snorts. “He’s a dumbass.”

Hinata scrunches up his nose. Kageyama kisses it. I _despise_ them. They’re over here being all romantic and cute, and meanwhile, I can’t even hold Kenma’s _hand_? Where’s the justice?

Bokuto and Akaashi return seconds later with the final three bowls. Kenma connects his computer to the TV. Bokuto sits down in the other armchair, pulling Akaashi into his lap while Akaashi blushes. They’re cute, too. In their case, though, I don’t care. Neither of _them_ are trying to take Kenma from me.

Tsukki glances at the extra seat on the couch. “Did you want that, Kuroo?”

I shake my head. “I’m taking the floor.”

“Kenma?”

Kenma shakes his head.

“ _Wonderful_.” He and Yams spread out across the couch with joint sighs of happiness. They’re cute. They’re all cute. Everyone’s fucking adorable and I am so, so lonely.

But Kenma smiles at me as he joins me on the floor – just a tiny smile, but when there’re this many people around, any smile at all is a miracle. And this one is for me, not Hinata.

He doesn’t sing along with the theme song – not that anyone would’ve been able to hear him, considering the fact that the other seven of us are singing it at the top of our lungs – but he follows every move every character makes, sharp eyes watching them cross the screen and gesture and spiral down the firehouse poles. He looks away when the librarian screams, and huffs when the slime man comes on screen.

My heart hurts.

I grab the remote and turn up the volume.

The movie ends too quickly, though, and suddenly Hinata’s bouncing around the room, spewing Ghostbusters trivia – he thoroughly approves of this movie, apparently – and dragging Kenma into a discussion of Bill Murray’s more recent films, absolutely _none_ of which Kenma knows. Kenma goes anyway, though, pulled across the room towards Kageyama’s armchair by whatever gravitational force Hinata exerts.

“Kuroo.”

I turn as Tsukki slides down to join me on the floor, a can of soda in his hand. Yams joins Hinata’s conversation with Kenma, thankfully – keeps things from getting too intimate.

“I won’t lie.”

“That’s an awful way to start a conversation.”

He ignores me, keeping his eyes on Kenma. “Bokuto made all of us come tonight for a reason – or, well, me and Hinata, anyway. Yamaguchi and Kageyama are just extras, I think.”

“ _Bokuto_ made you come?”

“He texted us _way_ before you asked me to come. He wants our help. You and Kenma aren’t dating yet.”

I watch as Yams animatedly continues the discussion with Kageyama, and _only_ Kageyama, ‘cause Hinata’s busy having a hushed discussion with Kenma. I can’t see Kenma’s face. “Yet?”

“Yet. It’s kinda fucking obvious, Kuroo.”

“What, that I’m approximately as gay as gay can get?”

“Well, that too, but that Kenma is pretty equally gay. For you.”

“Mmhmm.”

He sighs. “I told Bokuto there was pretty much nothing I could do, but he sent me a few angry emojis and told me I could skip whatever the fuck this is if I wanted to be lame. So here I am, busy not being lame, watching Ghostbusters and drinking un-spiked coca-cola at 7 PM on a Friday night.”

“That sounds _much_ lamer when you put it that way.” Hinata and Kenma are talking at a normal volume again. Their faces are a normal distance apart from each other. Good.

“It’s not like you can put it in a way that _doesn’t_ sound lame.”

“Hanging out with friends on a Friday night, instead of spending the night at home alone?”

He raises his can at me. “That almost made it sound non-lame. Congratulations.”

“I try.”

He sighs. “Really, though – no, gimme a minute, and then I’ll shut up, it’s not like I _want_ to be doing this, but Bokuto’s kinda scary. You’re unhappy. Kenma’s unhappy. He thinks you’ve got a thing for me and he doesn’t like it, and there’s literally no reason for him to be worried or unhappy, none, at all. I mean, Kenma and I aren’t even really friends, and I _still_ think this is messed up. Kuroo, you’ve gotta suck it up and tell him. It’s just mean, now, for you pretend that you don’t like him as much as he likes you, and honestly, if you keep it up, he’s gonna convince himself to get over you, and you’ll lose him. Just fucking do it, Kuroo. Don’t make people say I’ve got bad taste in friends.”

I roll my eyes at him, but it’s weak and he knows it. Maybe he’s right, maybe I should just – let Kenma decide. He won’t push me away, not after he’s spent so much time pulling me in, right? “Not even worried about me, just about your reputation,” I say, but it doesn’t even come out snarky. I’m losing my touch.

The lull in our conversation coincides with a lull in Yams’ and Kageyama’s conversation, and with Akaashi breaking off a sentence to take a drink. It’s basically quiet, except –

“Didn’t you and Akaashi not get along for a while?” Hinata asks, loud in the silence. He flushes.

Akaashi looks over. “Hmm?”

Kenma shakes his head. “Well, we were rivals in our match in the Interhigh, but once we were on the same team, we were…”

“Cordial?” Akaashi supplies. I guess that’s what happens when you become a Japanese major. You start using words like _cordial_.

“Yeah,” Kenma agrees. “We bonded last year, though. Pretty early on.”

Hinata nods. “Whole _most formidable rival is now your most formidable ally_ thing? Sugawara-san fed me that one back when I was a first year.” He jostles Kageyama, who flicks his shoulder.

Kenma and Akaashi shake their heads.

“It’s…” Kenma looks at me. “You’re better at telling this story than I am.”

Bokuto chuckles.

All right.

I look around at my audience: Hinata, Kageyama, Tsukki, and Yamaguchi. The Ones Who Don’t Know.

“Okay. So it’s late at night – or, really, early in the morning. Around one. I’ve been asleep for around two hours now, had a long day, a hard practice, everything’s awful, and now I’ve gotta take a piss.

“So up I get and I head into the bathroom, using my phone as a flashlight so I don’t have to turn on the hall light. Now. Remember. It’s a horrifying time of day. I’m not entirely awake. I decide there’s no way in hell I can aim right now. I’m gonna sit down. This is going somewhere, I promise,” I add as Tsukki and Yams exchange a look.

“If you say so,” Tsukki mutters.

“I do say so.

“So I sit down. And I keep going down. The seat was up and I am in the toilet. It’s one in the goddamn morning and I’m in the toilet. My ass is wet. Life is hell. I go to pull myself out. I cannot. I cannot get out of this goddamn toilet. Pulling myself out means using muscle, but whenever you flex your muscles, they swell, y’know? And the bigger they are, the more stuck I get. I _cannot get out_.”

Kageyama looks mortified on my behalf. Yams is snickering. Tsukki looks like he’s just stumbled on a goldmine. Hinata looks like his childhood idols are being ripped away from him. Good. This is precisely the effect I hoped to have.

“So I consider my options. I’m not close to a whole lot of people, not close enough to ask them for help with this. There’s Bokuto, my roommate.” I nod at Bokuto. He nods back. “He’s not an option, not right now. If I wake him up and fuck up his sleep routine, I get fed poisoned pancakes in the morning. I don’t want poisoned pancakes. So really, I have no options. My only choice is my best friend, Kenma Kozume.” I nod at Kenma. He side-eyes me. Good enough.

“Since it was just Bo and me, we only needed a two-bedroom apartment, which are _way_ easier to find close to campus, so we were living a ten-minute walk away. So transportation wasn’t an issue. And when we moved in, we had a couple spare keys made: one each for our families, one for Akaashi, and one for Kenma. So he could get inside, no problem. The problem was waking him up, which is generally considered impossible. I managed by texting him one letter per text, so his phone was just _constantly_ vibrating next to his face. I believe the text I got from him when he woke up was something along the lines of: _murder_. But with an angry cat face to go with it.

“So I get this text and I have to text my best friend the worst thing imaginable: _I’m stuck in a toilet and I need you to haul me out_. He texts back multiple question marks, and I repeat the request. He texts _you have got to be shitting me_ and I text _good lord I wish I was_. Twenty minutes later, I’ve given up all hope and resigned myself to waiting until Bokuto wakes up, when what do I hear, but the click of the lock? And then Kenma opens the door, in pajamas and my goddamn sweatshirt, looking at me like I’m the scum of the earth, while I’m looking at him like he’s my fuckin’ savior, because he _absolutely is_.

“He hauls me out of the toilet. Life was awful, but at least I got to share the pain. I might have gotten stuck, but I dragged Kenma out of bed at an ungodly time of night and was reassured that he’d do just about anything for me, in spite of his own disgust. Amazing. What a great story. A tale of true friendship. Morning arrived and Bokuto awakened. I informed him that he left the seat up last night and is a dick in my book. He asked why. I explained that I fell in, and he started laughing and said: _who hauled your sorry wet ass out?_ ”

Bokuto snickers.

“So, in spite of that insensitive comment, I finished the story and moved on with my life. Later that day, Akaashi and Kenma came over, and Bokuto shared my story with Akaashi, ending it with: _what’re the odds of it happening to both of us?_ ”

Yams claps both hands over his mouth. Kageyama and Hinata simultaneously whisper “ _no_.” Tsukki looks like he’s never heard such an incredible story in his entire life. I launch into the final portion of my dark and tragic tale.

“Kenma looked at Akaashi. _‘You had to do it too?’_ he whispered. Akaashi nodded. They shared a look that lasted, like, twenty full minutes. I think that’s just how much time it took to transmit that much pain. They bonded over the shared experience of pulling a shithead out of a toilet, and since then, they’ve pretty much been friends.”

I take a bow as best I can without actually standing up. Bokuto cheers for me. He’s a good friend. I appreciate him.

Hinata ends up sitting next to me when conversation resumes, somehow taking Tsukki’s place – Tsukki joins Yams, resting his head on Yams’ shoulder.

“He talks about you all the time, y’know,” he says casually.

“Who?”

“Kenma.”

“That’s nice.”

“You should tell him you love him.”

“How do you know I love him?”

Hinata rolls his eyes. “I’m not actually blind. The two of you are super duper obvious, honestly, but I can’t get Kenma to say anything to you, and it’s getting depressing. I’m working on him, too, but – you know him. God forbid he just talks about how he feels, then people might _know_. And it’s stupid, ‘cause he’s _totally_ willing to tell _me_ how much he loves you, so really, all he’s gotta do is pretend he’s talking to _me_ when he’s talking to _you_ , and bam, problem solved.”

“He – wait, he tells you – _what_?” He tells Hinata – he says that –

“Listen. Kuroo. He’s super duper extra in love with you. A lot. I can’t get him to _tell_ you, though. Although – the two of you were under all those blankets –”

“It was a pillow fort, and it collapsed,” I inform him absentmindedly. Hinata thinks – has been trying to – oh my god. What?

“Just saying.”

Something cold grips my heart. “Did Bokuto put you up to this?” Didn’t Bokuto somehow find out Hinata and Kageyama were bringing soda? Are Hinata and Tsukki just bullshitting me to humor Bokuto?

“Sorta, but he mostly just came up with the excuse to get me over here,” Hinata says cheerfully. “I’d’ve ended up here soon enough, just so Kenma would stop with the self-pity. _Ohh, he doesn’t love me, he_ –”

“Hinata, you ready to go?” Kageyama calls.

“Now?”

“It’s an hour drive back. And you’ve got homework.”

“It’s the weekend!”

“We’ve got practice all weekend long.”

Hinata groans, but jumps up. They say their goodbyes and disappear, taking an entire bowl of popcorn with them in plastic baggies. Bokuto’s a better host than I am – I’d be perfectly willing to keep all the goddamn popcorn and eat my heart out. Although, Bokuto doesn’t _have_ to eat his heart out anymore – he got his boyfriend and is busy trying to make my best friend hate me.

Anyway.

Tsukki and Yams depart, too, after Yams mentions that his Saturday practices start at 7 AM. The kid should be in bed _now_ , as far as I’m concerned. He needs his sleep.

Bokuto and Akaashi have saran wrap over the popcorn bowls before I even know what’s happening, and they carry Bokuto’s blankets into his bedroom with a cheery “Good night!”

I hate them. At least they’re on the opposite side of the apartment and I probably won’t have to _hear_ them tonight.

Kenma starts gathering up his blankets. He looks blank – tired.

What if Tsukki and Hinata were right?

Should I –

I give in, all at once. Maybe if I took a nap, I’d wake up with a little more sense, but – nope. I’m doing it. Now.

“Kenma?”

He looks up at me as I lever myself up onto the couch. I’ve got _incredible_ arm strength. I’m kinda impressed with myself.

But.

“I’m ready to tell you my secret.”

Is that _dread_ in his eyes? I look away. It’s gotta be tonight. I can say it, I can do it, and I can face the disappointment of having him look away from me and squirm and go to bed without saying good night. But it’ll be done. And when he wakes up he can pretend nothing ever happened.

The couch creaks as he sits.

“I’m – in love.”

“I know.”

I whip around to face him. “What?” He knows? And didn’t say anything? I was right, he doesn’t love me back, Hinata and Tsukki are out of their goddamn _minds_ –

“Just don’t hurt Tadashi, okay? I know you’re gonna go for Kei, and if you love him, I guess I don’t blame you, but – Tadashi – deserves to be happy.”

“What?” Wait, Tsukki wasn’t kidding, Kenma really thinks I’ve got a crush on Tsukki.

Kenma frowns at me. That was a pretty clear speech, especially for him. He opens his mouth to begin again, but – nope – gotta say it before I lose my nerve:

“Kenma, I’m in love with _you_.”

His mouth stays open.

He looks like I just whacked him in the head with a brick.

There it is. He’s got nothing to say, nothing to do, not even a goddamn smile, nothing, he’s not even reaching for his phone, he’s just _staring_ at me. Just –

Time for me to go curl up in bed and maybe leave. Just – I wanna go. Anywhere. Far away. Turn the volume up on the radio and drive ‘til the car runs out of gas.

Kenma doesn’t love me.

It feels like someone scooped out all my insides, left me with nothing but some skin, he doesn’t love me, everyone was wrong, I should’ve kept my fucking mouth shut and dealt with it. It was easier to deal with my stupid secret when it was mine – at least then, it was inside, it felt like I had something holding me together. Now I just feel – empty.

It’s time to go. What am I supposed to do, sit here and wait for Kenma to come up with something that won’t hurt my feelings? Listen to him explain that no, it’s not _me_ he likes, it’s _Hinata_ , and it would be best if I just got over him? No, no, nope, hell fucking _no,_ I’d rather be gone.

I press my hands into my eyeballs and watch the stars pop.

No, no. I can’t go. I can’t just leave Kenma like this, he doesn’t deserve that. He doesn’t deserve any of this. I knew he didn’t love me. It’s not his fault I sprang my bullshit on him, and I won’t – just – abandon him, make him deal with it alone, make him worry he lost his best friend just because I’m a fucking asshole.

I take a deep breath. I need a distraction. He needs a distraction. And he promised me. “So, that’s my big secret. What’s yours?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yet [another](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3dC4bHlNCr4) [couple](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GI_OG4RxyP8) fun songs for you all


	11. Kenma

He –

He just –

My heart is – flying, it’s – in the air, light, free, every cliché, and I don’t know how to tell him –

He drags his hands down his face and lets his head drop back onto the couch. He rolls his whole head so he can look at me, but he looks past me instead of looking into my eyes – look at me, Kuro, look at me, you always know how to read me, if you just look –

But he’s not looking. He loves me and he’s not looking at me. He _loves_ me. _He_ loves me. He loves _me_ – _He loves me –_ Kuro, my Kuro, loves me, the way I love him, because people don’t sit each other down to say that they’re friends. And he’s got no idea that I love him too.

“I – I’m in love too.”

He huffs. “Knew it. Hinata?”

He tilts a little so he can see me, and when he sees me shaking my head, he actually perks up a little. “Wait, really? Who is it? Do I know them?”

I nod. Why can’t I say it? He just _told_ me, it’s not like he’s going to reject me, but words – not happening. Not now, when I need them most.

He gets it. He understands, he always does.

“Are they on the volleyball team?”

I nod.

“Is it someone in your year?”

I shake my head.

“Older?”

Nod.

“Senior?”

Shake.

“My year?”

Nod. _You, Kuro. It’s you._

“That’s – is it someone who lives with us now or is gonna live with us in the future?”

Nod.

“Akaashi?” Is his voice shaking? It _is_. He’s actually _worried_.

Shake.

He hesitates. “Bokuto? I…” He looks – scared, trapped, like he wants to be anywhere but here.

He’s an _idiot_.

Words aren’t coming. How can I wipe that look off his face if I can’t _speak?_

I shake my head.

He stares at me.

Words aren’t _coming_.

I crawl across the couch towards him and straddle him.

He looks like he’s about to pass out. “Kenma…”

It’s – it’s just like earlier. When we were in the tent, and I was above him, and he – froze – and he was so close, and I could’ve kissed him, and then Shoyo came in and _ruined_ it – although not as much as Kei did, just by turning up – but even Kei – I didn’t believe him. Him _or_ Shoyo. They both told me Kuro loved me. Kei told me, though – he told me that Bokuto set the whole damn thing up, everything about tonight, just so Kei could tell me to my face that I was being an idiot, so of course I didn’t believe him, why would I?

Kuro’s mouth is open, his lips look soft – he licks them, just a little flick of his tongue, _honestly_ , but – I need to ask – but words aren’t _working_ – I tug my phone out and open up notes. I type one-handed. _Can I kiss you_?

He looks at it, and looks at me, and nods.

Did he move first? Did I really – did _I_ really lean forward first? I don’t know, and I don’t care, I _don’t care_ , because my nose is bumping his cheek, and he’s licking into my mouth, and I can taste him, and I’m no good at this, I’ve never kissed anyone in my entire life, but that’s all right, he knows, he knows that. It’s probably much more difficult than it’s supposed to be, though, because I’m smiling, but that’s okay because he’s grinning, grinning and giving up on trying to kiss me through it, threading his hand through my hair and looking at me with blazing eyes.

“Keiji told me he’d been waiting five or six years,” I whisper, and I’m babbling, but I don’t care, he’s grinning at me, “I wonder what he’d say if I told him I’d been waiting for nearly ten?”

He makes a noise and bumps his forehead against mine. “You’re kidding. Fuck, we could’ve been dating for – shit, _years_ , I –”

“Wait, you too?”

“Years, _god_ , I don’t know when it started – I don’t think I bothered noticing, it just seemed _normal_ , of _course_ I was in love with you, why wouldn’t I be?”

“All the one-night stands, though –”

He shrugs. “I didn’t think you loved me, figured it would be easier for both of us if I could just – stop loving you – thought maybe it would be easy enough to find someone else – never worked, though.”

“Good.” I pull him forward to kiss me again. Oh, God, I came so close to never, ever, knowing what he tasted like, or hearing him say he loves me, or – or – Jesus, does anything else even matter – my vision of a future without him could’ve happened – I wrap myself around him, as closely as I can, and he squeezes me close with an arm like an iron bar around my back. He’s not leaving me, he’s not leaving me, and – I never told him – I pull away for a minute to say “Kuro, I love you, I love –” but that’s as far as I get before he kisses me again, Kuro, my Kuro, kissing me, because he loves me.

He laughs and we break apart. “Might actually have to thank Bokuto. Did Tsukki or Hinata tell you what he did?”

“What’d I do?” Koutarou asks, opening his door. “Whatever they said, it was a goddamned – _oh_.” He grins. “I take full credit for setting everything up.”

“What’d you set up?” Keiji asks, poking his head over Koutarou’s shoulder.

“Kenma and Kuroo.”

“Oh. You’re together now?”

I nod and drag my leg around so I can actually face them. Kuro keeps his arms wrapped around my waist, though, and that’s okay. He puts his chin on my shoulder.

“Finally.” Keiji smiles. “Told you so.”

I nod. And then I narrow my eyes. “Did Koutarou tell you to?”

He shakes his head. “We talked about it, but he didn’t tell me to say anything to you.”

“You – talked about it?”

Koutarou snorts. “Everyone did. Has been, for, like, over two years now.”

I stare at him. Kuro jerks. “What?”

Koutarou shrugs. “It’s been pretty obvious. You started making a place for Kenma on the team in _freshman year_ , Kuroo. Kenma hadn’t even _applied_ yet and you were already telling people how awesome he was.”

I flush, but I twist to look at Kuro, and my little blush is _nothing_ compared to the fire creeping up Kuro’s neck.

“And then,” Koutarou continues, “Kenma applied, and got accepted, and you literally didn’t stop grinning for a _week_. I mean, it’s normal to be happy for friends and old teammates, but that was pretty excessive, dude. And then Kenma actually _got_ here and the two of you were fucking joined at the hip. We were practically making bets – so, actually, which one of you said what first? I need to know if I won or not.”

Kuro raises an eyebrow. “That’s no less than what we did for you and Akaashi, you know. Hell, just last week, Kenma and I were planning on putting on cheerleading uniforms and – and – cheering you on,” he ends lamely, and he’s the same color as a stop sign and so am I, because that was when I told him I thought he’d look good in booty shorts and thigh highs, oh my _god_ –

“You guys okay?” Koutarou asks. “Is it that embarrassing? Personally, I think I’d look pretty good in a cheerleading uniform,” he says thoughtfully.

Keiji runs a finger up the back of Koutarou’s neck. “Me too,” he murmurs.

“Get a room,” Kuro says with a snort.

“I could say the same to you,” Koutarou retorts. “I only _left_ my room to pee.”

“You’re not peeing.”

“I know, and I’m having issues with this state of affairs.”

“Go pee!”

Keiji nudges Koutarou towards the bathroom, and he goes, muttering to himself.

“I guess we should clean up the blankets,” Kuro sighs.

Keiji nods at me and turns back into Koutarou’s room.

I crawl out of Kuro’s lap. Gotta clean up.

“I – sorry. For keeping it from you for so long.”

I shrug. “I mean, I didn’t tell you, either.”

“Yeah, but, we missed out on _years_. We could’ve had so much more time, if I’d _said_ something.”

I stoop to grab another blanket and consider. It doesn’t take long. “First of all, I could’ve said something, too, so it’s just as much my fault as yours. Second of all – we were – with each other, the whole time, even if we weren’t – together. So –” I stare at the wall. “It’s – okay.” I shrug. “Any time spent with you is good, no matter what we’re doing, whether we’re – d-dating or – not, or whatever. I guess it’s – like Keiji and Koutarou. Remember? How you said they were dating, Koutarou just didn’t know it yet? Like that. We – we were dating, basically, we just didn’t know it.”

When I get up the courage to actually _look_ at him, he’s looking at me, and – I’m – I’m an _idiot_ , how did I not figure it out before, when – he’s looking at me the way Koutarou looks at Keiji, the way Tobio looks at Shoyo, and it’s –

He bends over to kiss me, ignoring the angle required to get around both of our armfuls of blankets, and my heart nearly explodes. He loves me, he loves me, he loves –

Koutarou wolf-whistles, skipping into his room and shutting and locking his door behind him as Kuro whips his head up to glare at him.

He huffs. “Anyway. Wanna sleep in my room tonight?”

I nod. “I’ll put all my blankets in your room?”

“Yup.”

We march single-file into his room, dump the blankets, and march back out for the second load. All my pillows end up in there, too.

He disappears into my room to retrieve my DS and I organize the bed.

First of all, we shouldn’t have to feel the wall. At all. Ideally, we’d have enough pillows that this wouldn’t be a problem, but we don’t, so I scrunch up both of our duvets and fluff them up against the wall. They’re thick enough.

Second of all, “sitting up” should be synonymous with “comfortably reclining.” I pile the pillows up against the back wall.

Third of all, the bed should be edged with blankets. I roll up a couple fleece blankets and line the bottom and the side that’s not against the wall.

The rest of the blankets get piled in the middle. We’ve got a collection. Everyone should have one.

I squeak as arms wrap around my waist. Kuro laughs and kisses my hair, then rests his chin on my head, humming contentedly.

“So,” he says slowly, “when you said you thought I’d look good in booty shorts –”

I make some god-awful noise, but oh, _god_ , I spin in his arms and shove my face against his chest.

“Because, I mean, I could _absolutely_ make that happen, if you want.”

I groan and let it rise to a shriek.

“All right, all right, no thigh highs, no booty shorts,” he laughs.

“That – that’s not it,” I mumble.

“Hmm?”

“That’s not the problem,” I say a little louder.

“What’s not?”

Oh, god, he’s actually confused – “the problem. Isn’t that I _don’t_ want to see you in booty shorts and thigh highs. The problem is, whenever I _consider_ that, my brain – shorts out. Completely.”

I lift my eyes towards his face.

Oooooooh god.

I reach up and grab him and drag him down to me, to my mouth, because I _need_ him, his pupils were dilated and his face was flushed and he was busy _smoldering_ at me, I didn’t know that was _possible_ outside of Disney, who gave him the right –

He scoops me up, one hand under my ass, one hand under my leg, and I wrap my thighs around him and practice kissing like my life depends on it, because it really feels like it does.

He climbs on the bed – Jesus, even when he’s holding me he’s still graceful, _God_ – and releases me when I tug at his shirt, pulling back so I can tug it over his head. He tosses it out of the way and runs his hands under my shirt, up, over my ribs, helps me pull it off, it’s in the way, _Christ_ – why am I so _short_? Kuro’s practically gotta pick me up, just so I can press my torso against his and kiss him at the same time, running my hands through his hair, and he lets me, he always lets me mess his hair up, he loves me, Kuro, my Kuro, and I pull away so I can tell him that – “Kuro, my Kuro, mine” – and he moans and pulls me against him, oh my god –

“Can I touch you?” He breathes against my lips, but he’s shaking, his voice is – unsure –

“Yes, oh god, Kuro –”

He spits in his hand, and that should be gross, but then he’s reaching into my sweatpants, into my boxers, and, ah, _ah_ , oh _god, fuck_ – “Kuro, Kuro, Kuro, _ah_ –” he’s kissing my neck, his hand is rough, his breath is hitching as he says my name, and – “Kuro – Kuro, I’m – gonna – _oh god_ –” jerking into his hand, _ah,_ clutching him, shaking, trembling, there are _stars_ oh god, “I –” bury my face in his chest, oh my _god_ , the stars fade as I blink – “I didn’t mean to –” that was – fast, that was – embarrassing, does he –

He pets my hair, shaking, laughing a little, reaching away from me for a tissue, saying – “No big deal, it’s fine – it’s – listen, really – the other day I was thinking about you and I came in approximately thirty seconds, it’s really not – oh. Shit. I did _not_ just say that.”

I look up at him. He looks up at the ceiling. Avoiding my eyes.

“What –” What’s the proper way to phrase this? Then again, he’s bright red, it’s probably impossible for me to be more embarrassed than he is right now, I hope. I take a deep breath. “What was I doing? In your head. When you were thinking about me.”

I watch his Adam’s apple bob. “Uh. It’s. I mean.”

I slide my hand down over his abs. “Kuro?”

“ _Fuck_.”

“Can I touch you?”

He nods, bright red, still avoiding my eyes. What’s wrong? I _know_ I’m not the first person he’s had sex with, why is this so embarrassing? “Kuro? Are you ok? Why is this weird?”

“It’s – it’s _you_.”

Me? “Why? What am I doing wrong, should I –”

“No, no, it’s –” He finally looks at me, bumps his forehead against mine. “It’s because it’s _you_. I’ve – I never thought – I just – I care way more about what _you_ think than what anyone else thinks, y’know?”

Oh. “Hmmmmm _nnnnnnnnnnmmmm_.”

“You okay?”

I nod and shove my face into his shoulder for a minute.

I’ll think about that later.

I slide my hand down his boxers and he gasps. “Please tell me, Kuro?”

“ _Fuck_ , ah –”

I reach my fingers around him – he’s – thicker than I expected – oh, _god_ –

“Shit – um – you – ran your thumb, over –”

I run my thumb over the head and he bites his knuckles, but, “Kuro, you can’t tell me what to do if you’re biting your knuckles,” but that doesn’t work, he just groans and closes his eyes, but this is really a problem. “Kuro, I’ve never done this before, I need help.”

He drags his hand from his mouth. “ _Shit_. Uh, nails, but – lightly – just – oh _god just like that –_ fuck, Kenma – um – pressure on – veins, just, shit, I don’t –”

He’s shivering, babbling, growing progressively redder, not looking at me, what a _dork_ , I take my hand back and spit in it, not that it matters, the amount of precum was – kinda gross, but – what’d he do right before I – oh, right. I lean forward and kiss his neck. He _shudders_ , and I can feel all of it, with my legs around him like they are, “Kuro, what else did I do?”

He swallows. “Looked at me.”

What? “How do you know if I’m looking at you if you won’t look at me?”

And then he _does_ , and his eyes are practically black with desire and his face is flushed and I don’t mean to squeeze, but I do, and then he gasps and cuts off a whine and drags his nails down my back and spurts over my hand, which, again, kinda gross, but – well – Kuro, breathing heavily, dropping his head into my shoulder, laughing ‘cause “Jesus, you’d think I was a virgin.”

I run my clean hand through his hair.

“I should probably wash my hands,” he says after a few minutes.

“Yeah.”

“Did you… wanna take your hand out of my pants?”

“I – there’s – a lot.”

Kuro snickers, snorts, laughs harder, “Shit, Kenma, have you been – that uncomfortable – Jesus, lemme get you a tissue –”

It’s grosser than I thought it was.

“Ugh, it’s all in my pants, too, ew –” and once I start moving it becomes _very obvious_ and I am _disgusted_. “Never again. Condoms forever. Ew. Ew. Ew. What do I do first, wash my hands or change my underwear? Oh, god, gross. I’ll just – throw all of this out.”

“Your hand, too?”

“Yes. I need you to chop it off for me. Wash your hands first, though, if I get a fucking semen infection I will _die_.”

“When was the last time you cursed? No, wait, wash your hands, first, or you risk getting jizz on your other clothes – I’ll show you how to wash it all out, promise.”

Of all the things I ever thought I’d do in my life, standing at the sink washing semen out of my underwear with my best friend was _not one of them_.

“Hey, if it’s in the underwear, it’s not on the sheets, y’know?”

“Kuro, that’s – that’s not really comforting.”

He shrugs. He hasn’t stopped grinning yet.

Koutarou opens his door as we head back into Kuro’s room.

“You guys going to bed?”

“In a couple hours, yeah,” Kuro answers.

“Dude, you’re glowing. Did you use a new skin cream or something? Is the cream called _Kenma_? Actually, you know what, that was the worst sentence I’ve ever said, ignore it.”

I flush and look away. Maybe if he doesn’t see the –

“Are you holding your boxers?”

Nope.

“Maybe.”

I head towards Kuro’s room.

“Gotta go, dude.”

“’Kay, bro, gotta follow the love of your life, I respect that.”

I nearly walk into the doorjamb.

“Yup. Thanks for understanding.”

I squat on the floor. Kuro’s gonna trip on me when he comes in but I do not _care_.

Kuro trips on me when he walks in. “Kenma – shit, are you okay?”

I nod.

“Do you need help getting up?”

I shake my head. He squats in front of me, worry written in the set of his eyebrows. “What’s wrong?”

“Th–the _love of your life_.”

He turns bright red. “Was – was that – is it too early? I mean, it could’ve totally been a joke, um –”

I launch myself at him. He falls backwards, but catches me. “Kenma?”

“Not too early.”

“I – oh.”

I bury my face in his neck. “Kuro?”

“Yeah, kitten?”

Well, _that_ sets me back approximately one billion and three hundred years, but I work around it. “I’ve loved you forever.”

He buries his face in my hair. “I love you too. Wouldn’t know what to do with myself if I didn’t.”

“Remember the first time I took your jacket?”

“I was about to go on vacation, right?”

I nod against his shoulder. “I couldn’t handle going a week without – any part of you, smell, sight, feel, something. And I knew that was kinda weird – not in general, I guess, just, weird for me. So I looked it up.”

He doesn’t laugh at me. He knows me too well. When we were younger, I used to ask him what emotions felt like, just so I could recognize them on my own, but I couldn’t have asked him why I felt weird about him, it might’ve been rude.

“So really, Google told me I was in love with you.”

“I should send it a thank-you card.” He kicks the door closed and falls over backwards, so I can lie on his chest without having to bend my back in half. I extract my arms from underneath him so I can rest my chin on my hands.

He chews on his lip. “Hmm. You know, I probably fell in love with you when I was… um… twelve or thirteen? I just didn’t figure it out until, like, three years later. Bo was talking about Akaashi. All, _ooooh, my heart hurts whenever I look at him, and I love the sound of his voice, and I wanna touch his hair, and I look forward to volleyball more ‘cause he’s on the team than ‘cause of volleyball itself…_ and I was like, yeah, so what, I feel the same way about Kenma, but… _oh_. And then everything made sense. So the owl told me I was in love with you.”

“Does that mean I’ve gotta send Koutarou a thank-you card?”

“He’d probably love it, honestly.”

“So it would take him five years to open up to the card.”

“Five years to share his feelings with the card.

“To let the card know he cared.”

“To touch the card’s hair.”

“To kiss the card.”

“This is rapidly heading into intimate territory.”

“I’m a little worried.”

“He and the card should get a room.”

“Move in together.”

“Grow old together.”

“Sorry, Keiji, you’ve been replaced.”

“But Akaashi falls in love with the card, too.”

“Ah. I think we’re missing something important, though – the life span. How long does paper really last?”

“Mm. Not long, especially if it’s being manhandled on a regular basis.”

“Gross.”

“Yeah. What if we sent a thank-you email instead?”

“Then he’d have to confess his love in front of everything on his computer, which would mean he’d take ten years instead of five.”

“Messenger pigeon?”

“He could just play Hatoful Boyfriend.”

Kuro laughs his hyena laugh. “I can’t believe I’ve never thought of this before! The owl and the pigeon, a love story that can never be, this generation’s _Romeo and Juliet_ , oh my _god_.”

“I bet if we pitch it to him, he’d write the script.”

“Akaashi would probably break up with him, though.”

“But it’s okay. They’re both in love with the messenger pigeon, and the pigeon brings them back together again.”

“This is the greatest love story ever told.” He clears his throat and intones: “A relationship ripped apart by jealousy as both men fall in love with a pigeon, but when the pigeon falls in love with both of them, he goes on a quest to bring his two human lovers back together – finding stability and a healthy relationship along the way.”

“I never, ever, _ever_ want to hear that _again_.”

“You have no appreciation for art.”

“I’m literally a music – thing.” Major? Minor? Why is this so hard?

“A music thing.”

“A music thing,” I confirm confidently.

“Have you decided what you’re gonna do about that?”

“Nope.”

“Met with your guidance counselor, maybe?”

“Nope.”

“Emailed your guidance counselor?”

“Nope.”

“Considered the question?”

“Nope.”

“Stuck it in some chamber in the back of your head, vague and unformed, to be locked away forevermore?”

“Yep.”

He laughs and heaves himself up, stomach muscles tensing and roiling under me, legs coming up around my hips, _Jesus_ , okay, I scramble backwards, don’t let him see –

“Kenma?”

Oh, but it doesn’t matter if he sees anymore, maybe he’d even want to know? I can’t hold his gaze. I let my eyes slide away. “I could feel your muscles moving.”

He’s silent for a minute. Then – “oh?”

“I – I think – I liked – it was nice.”

“Ohoho?” He rolls over his toes, landing gracefully and silently on his knees in front of me. “You liked?”

I nod. My face is so warm Koutarou could cook pancakes on it.

He takes my hands out of my lap and puts them on his stomach.

I instantly disown the noise I make, as soon as it makes its way out of my mouth, but – he _rolls_ his whole body, and I can feel his muscles, and I let my head drop onto his chest because _oh dear god_ , how has my face not burned to ashes yet?

He laughs, but it’s the good kind of laugh, not the kind that means he’s laughing at me, the kind that means he’s happy, and that’s comforting, because if he’s happy, things must be good.

He takes one hand off mine and lifts my head up, ducking so he can see my face, and I’m not looking at him but I _know_ that that’s when he looks down cause he stills and says: “Oho _ho_ ho?”

“Mmm _mmmmm_!”

“Kenma –”

I throw myself at him. Why is life like this? When did I get to a point where even when Kuro is the one _torturing_ me the only person I can turn to is Kuro himself?

He snickers. “If you looked down at _me_ , you wouldn’t have to bother being embarrassed.”

I don’t think I can do it. I might actually pass out. Too much blood’s gone to my head, that can’t be healthy, right?

I look down anyway.

It doesn’t help my embarrassment. Honestly.

“We can ignore ‘em, if you want, it’s no big deal,”

He was so embarrassed, earlier, telling me he’d masturbated to me, so I can tell him weird stuff and not be embarrassed, it doesn’t matter, it’s not like we’ve ever hidden anything from each other, he won’t make fun of me, I can trust him, I know I can, so why is this so _hard_?

“I…”

“Do you wanna write it out?”

I shake my head. The words are there, it’s just me, in the way. “I – don’t really – want – to do that. Ignore them. It. Them.”

Oh god, is he blushing? I can’t do this if he’s blushing. If _he’s_ not gonna take charge, _I_ sure as hell can’t, and we’ll just bumble around doing – nothing. On the other hand, at least I’m not blushing alone, at least this isn’t only overwhelming for me, so maybe it’s good that he’s blushing? This is so far beyond my realm of experience.

“What _do_ you want to do?”

I’m going to invent telepathy. I’m going to find away for Kuro to look at me and know _precisely_ what I want. I’m going to do anything I can, anything, to avoid having to answer this question, but I can’t, ‘cause if I don’t say anything, Kuro’ll never know, and what’ll I do then? “I want you. To have sex. With you.”

“You want me to have sex with myself?”

“I – no. With me. I want to have sex with you. I want you to have sex with me? I want – to sleep with? You? Oh my god.”

Snickering, he gathers me up, sliding his arms around me and standing up, while holding me, Jesus, how much does he work out? I kiss him and latch my legs around him, and he sighs.

“Maybe don’t kiss me while I’m holding you, that’s a damn good way to make me lose my balance,” he suggests, voice deep, rough. _That’s_ a damn good way to make me want to kiss him again – just speak like _that_.

He sets me on the bed and kisses me, kisses my nose, my cheekbones, my temples, my lips, me, so much of me, and I’m so happy, so happy to be in his arms – and when he pulls back, he doesn’t go too far, just far enough that he can look me in the eyes, figure out what he sees there.

“Are you sure you’re ready?”

I nod.

“Did you want to bottom?”

I hesitate. In the future, absolutely. Now…

“Would you rather top?”

I nod. And then I think about Kuro’s ass in the air, and his long back, sloping down – I nod again. Heat crawls up my face.

He grins and reaches over to his bedside table.

He actually has to _dig_. Kuro. The neatest man on the face of the planet. Has to _dig._

He pulls out the box and the bottle eventually, eyes flickering over the top of the box.

“Are you checking the expiration date?”

“Listen, it’s been a long time, okay? We’re good, though, we’ve got a month.”

“Good.”

“So –” He frowns. Looks at me. “Hmm.”

I watch him.

“You’re – shorter than I am.”

I raise an eyebrow.

“Uh. Most…” his cheeks turn rosy. “Oh my _god_ , I sound like a fucking virgin – no offense – but – okay. Most positions sorta require the two people involved to be the same height, you know? Usually, I’d be happy on my knees, but I’m gonna go right ahead and say that you wouldn’t be able to reach unless we got you, like, a footstool or something to kneel on.”

“No, thanks.”

“Yeah. No stools. How about a bench?”

I give him my best glare.

He snickers. “Okay, if you insist.” He looks me up and down. “Maybe – I’ll be honest, I’ve never had sex with anyone shorter than me. Maybe it would work? I guess it would depend more on thigh length than height, considering, and I don’t know how –”

I throw a pillow at him. “You can lie on your back.”

“Next you’ll be calling me a wench.”

“If you insist.”

He laughs as he wiggles out of his underwear and pours lube on his fingers. “My back it is. I’m assuming you’ve never fingered someone before?”

I shake my head. “Not even myself.”

His eyes darken. “If you ever decide to try that, I am ready and willing to watch. Just so you’re aware.”

I don’t even have time to react to – _that_ – when he settles himself back against the pillows and hitches his knees up.

My mouth goes dry.

His hair is messed up, his lips are flushed, his eyes are blown out – and skin, so much skin, bunched up a little into folds over his stomach, stretching over thigh muscles – god, _thighs_ – and his dick – he’s hard, for _me_ –

He slides a hand down between his thighs – where I’m gonna be, soon, _lord_ – and his finger draws circles, and he laughs, breathless – “you look like a new Fire Emblem game came out.”

“No, I don’t,” I murmur, “this is better.”

He actually _flushes_. And then I’m flushing, too, was that really nerdy? Oh god. I can’t hide my face in his chest if he’s fingering himself, which he is now, slowly sinking one finger inside himself and making a face – does it hurt? I crawl closer and kiss the inside of his knee. “Don’t hurt yourself.”

He huffs at me. Is he actually – offended? “It doesn’t hurt, really, if it’s done properly. Never let anyone tell you otherwise.”

“Well, you’re the only one who’ll be fingering me – ever, hopefully, and also probably – so it doesn’t matter much, what anyone else tells me, does it.”

He cocks an eyebrow at me. “Well. When you put it that way. But no, it doesn’t hurt, it just feels – weird.”

I rest my cheek against his leg. “Weird, how?”

“There’s something up my ass moving in ways things up my ass were not meant to move.”

“Oh.”

And then he laughs and reaches forward and pulls me towards him, making me squeak – I don’t wanna land on his hand, not while he’s easing in a second finger, but my hands are sinking into the pillows, Kuro isn’t exactly leaning on anything sturdy – but he tips my chin up and kisses me, tiny short little kisses that could never last, not while the two of us are smiling this much. I stay there anyway, though, because I can feel him tense up, I’m there when he gasps, I kiss him when he moans, and – he grabs me, my hips, with both hands – both – and tugs me against him, and that’s nearly too much, I can feel everything, all of his skin, all of his hardness, every bit of softness on his body, all of it – all of him. Kuro, my Kuro, “my Kuro, my Kuro –” he bites my bottom lip.

“Are you ready?” He murmurs.

“Yeah.”

I scramble backwards and out of my underwear, and he’s watching me – studying me – but I’ve never cared about that when he’s the one doing it. He won’t – laugh, or – judge.

He sits up – carefully – and rips open the condom. I reach for it, but he shakes his head. “Can I?”

Should I just – present my dick for wrapping? Will he tie a bow around it? I’d like to request a red ribbon, if possible.

I must be making a face, ‘cause he laughs and reaches for me, and a moment or two later, I’ve got a condom on for the first time in my life. It feels – weird, but then Kuro is rubbing lube over my dick, and I suck in a deep breath and stare at the ceiling for a minute. It’s blank. Very nice. Just what I wanted.

And then I feel something wet on my stomach, zipping all the way up my stomach to my chest, and I grab at – Kuro. He’s sticking his tongue out at me.

“Look at me!”

I stick my tongue out at him, too. He bites it.

“That’s weird.”

“So are you. Are you planning on fucking me, or just staring at the ceiling?”

I push at him, and he lets himself fall backwards, waggling his eyebrows at me as he makes himself comfortable, knees spread.

Jesus.

I kneel between his legs, run my hands down his shins. His leg hair is – soft. I never knew that. I let my hands travel over his inner thighs, watching his muscles jump, listening to the way his breathing stalls out, feeling how smooth, perfect, good, the skin is there. I slide my hands up over his stomach, graze his nipples with my palms, curve a hand around his cheek, watch the way he watches me, like he trusts me, completely, because he does, oh god.

“Go slow for now,” he whispers.

I nod.

I enter him a millimeter at a time, brushing my hands over his legs, over his stomach, watching him watch me until he can’t anymore and lets his head fall back – and good, because I don’t manage to keep my head up much longer than he does, because – he’s – just – warm – tight – I can hear his breathing, heavy and halting, but when I stop – “Are you okay? Kuro?” – he just reaches for me, nods, smiles, and when I watch him, I don’t see anything that would suggest he’s just saying that to make me feel better. I keep going, down, panting, oh god, until my hips are resting against his skin and he’s squeezing my hand, clutching me, one hand tangled almost painfully in my hair, so I stop, and wait, and watch him, until his grip relaxes and he snorts.

“Man, it’s been so fuckin’ long – ha, just like you –”

I blink at him. What? “I mean, I’ve never had sex, so I guess it _has_ been long, but isn’t that usually supposed to refer to –”

“No, no, I meant your dick, so fuckin’ long, just like your dick.”

I consider the ethics of a person making a dick joke while said dick is balls-deep inside their ass. I feel like, in some way, that’s gotta be unethical, somehow, but Kuro’s still laughing, and as long as he’s laughing, he’s relaxed. So I bring his hand to my face and kiss his knuckles. “I forgive you for that joke.”

“There’s nothing to forgive me for!”

I give him the best side-eye I can muster and he laughs.

“Right, so are you just gonna stay here all night or –” he trails off into a moan as I grind my hips against him – which, _wow_ – and then he turns bright red. “Oh god, okay, no more jokes, I swear, none, zero, zilch, zip.”

I pull back, carefully, slowly, Jesus _Christ,_ but he’s watching me and he doesn’t even look really strained, so I think he’s okay.

When I sink back down, sighing, he stretches towards me, pulling me towards him so he can kiss me.

“Thank you for taking care of me,” he murmurs against my lips, and I really don’t know what to do with that. Me, taking care of Kuro? What world is this?

“On the other hand,” he continues, letting me go, “I’m pretty much okay now, and I have, in fact, gotten absolutely goddamn _pounded_ before, so you can feel free to actually start enjoying this, all right? I’ll be fine, I promise.”

I’m not thinking about anyone else _pounding_ Kuro. No one else can do that. No one but me.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath. Kuro squeezes my hand. He’s mine _now_ , so why should I care? I shouldn’t. So I don’t. Problem solved.

He’s so pretty, all splayed out underneath me, watching me, grinning at me. A good grin, not his usual smirk, and not the one that means he’s provoking me. The one that means he’s happy.

Well, I’ve got absolutely no idea what I’m doing, but – Kuro’ll tell me if I do anything wrong. He’ll tell me if I hurt him. And what’s the likelihood of me managing to do that? I can experiment, I think, ‘til I find what he likes.

I pull out and slam back into him, and I know _I_ made a noise but I could still hear the one _he_ made, a gasp – or – whine – something, oh god, and now there’s heat in his eyes, oh _god_ , he’s grabbing at me –

“Kenma, _jesus_ , that’s – good, that’s – yeah – _oh god_ –”

I pull in deep breaths as he strains towards me, ‘cause honestly every single thrust is dangerous, dangerous, he’s so – _so –_ clenching around me, digging his nails into my back, legs wrapping around my waist, moaning, _whining_ my _name_ – I have to look away, if I look at him it’ll be the end. He’s so beautiful. Honestly.

“Kenma, sweetheart – _fuck_ – you – I love you – look at _me_ –”

He doesn’t know what he’s asking, but I look at him anyway – let my eyes graze over his stomach, his arms, his hair, face, _eyes_ –

He drags me down for a kiss, licking into my mouth like he’s desperate for me – I can’t move like this, I’m not tall enough, I just – grind my hips against him – listen to him gasp – or was that me? – oh god, I’ve never wanted anything more than I’ve wanted him – Kuro, arching against me – “please, Kenma, _please_ –” he’s so tight, clenching around me, but he still hasn’t come, he still hasn’t – I pull away from him a little so I can move again, but he won’t let me go too far, so I’m only pulling out a couple centimeters before thrusting back in, quick, fast, I couldn’t go slow now if I wanted – Kuro lets go of me so he can bite his hand, but I can still hear him, moaning anyway, a sound that comes from somewhere deep inside him that can’t be stopped – “Kuro, Kuro, oh god, Kuro –” and then his legs are iron, he’s squeezing me so tight, his whole body arching, jolting, shuddering, some bastardized version of my name, _my name_ , coming out of his mouth – and then I see stars, is that _me_ whining? – and the only thing in my brain is fuzz.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yup


	12. Kuroo

Oh my _god_.

I mean, I didn’t think Kenma would be _awful_ in bed. I figured I’d have to talk him through it a little bit, help him out. I’ve slept with more than one virgin. _I’ve_ been a virgin. I know what it’s like. I know how that shit can be. First times are awkward and full of embarrassment and regret, and I was absolutely determined to make sure Kenma had to suffer through as little of that as possible.

But.

Hot _damn_.

The fuzz clears from my eyes around the same time Kenma shakes himself and pulls out of me, slowly, pausing when I shudder. “No, no, you’re good, don’t worry,” I promise him, but my voice isn’t all that clear, and he watches me for a second before he pulls out the rest of the way.

He grimaces at his dick. “I’ll go grab a towel,” he says softly, peeling off the condom and holding it like it’s a bag of shit, tying it off like he’s holding a nuclear bomb.

I stand up as he tugs on his boxers and slips out of the room. Oh my god. I’m actually – sore. I didn’t even have to get myself off. What the fuck? And here he is, returning with a towel. Like _ah yes, I am Kenma the Virgin, I have never had sex before, but I will not pass out afterwards like other weaklings, I will care for you like a Seasoned Sex-Haver_. What the fuck?

I take the towel so he doesn’t have to wipe me off. He didn’t look like he was particularly attracted to the mess on my stomach. That’s all right. He gives me a grateful look, grabs his DS, and slides into bed. _My_ bed. ‘Cause _that’s_ where he’s spending the night. With _me_.

The towel goes in the laundry basket, the boxers go on me, the me goes in the bed. Kenma leans against me, like he always does. He smiles at me, like he always does. He tugs me down for a kiss.

The touch of his tongue is the sweetest thing I could ever imagine.

And _I_ know what it feels like, _I_ know what it tastes like, I know the smell of his skin and the touch of his fingers and what his eyes look like when he’s aroused. I must’ve been a fuckin’ saint in a past life to deserve this – to deserve him at all, really.

He first stole my jacket a long, long time ago. A decade? Maybe not quite. A while.

What would my life have been like if he hadn’t loved me for half of it?

I’ve been staring at him for a while, but he’s not looking away. He never does, when I’m the one looking at him. “Why doesn’t it bother you when I stare at you?”

His eyes skitter away from mine.

“You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”

He shakes his head. “No, it’s just – when other people watch me, it’s – weird, like – they’re looking at me, but they don’t know what they’re seeing, or they don’t know how to – interpret what they’re seeing, and I don’t like it, I don’t like whatever they’re thinking about me, because it’s probably wrong. It – doesn’t feel like that when you look at me. I don’t have to worry that you won’t know what you’re looking at, and you know me too well to – misinterpret whatever you see. So I don’t care.” He bites his lip. “Although, you completely missed the fact that I was in love with you for several years. So, maybe I’m wrong?”

I wrinkle my nose at him. “Hmph.”

He smiles. “That’s all you’ve got?”

“That’s all I’ve got.”

He shrugs and turns back to his DS. I nuzzle his hair and reach for my bio notes. May as well be productive, if I’m gonna be awake.

Marine biology is pretty cool, honestly. Fish are fucking _weird_. And coral is fucking _weird_. And the ocean? _Fucking weird_. There are species down there that shouldn’t exist, because they’re _terrifying_. And even if the super-sciency aspect of it isn’t always fun, it’s still exciting, to know that there are things down there that could slaughter me without a second thought. Also, sea bunnies exist, which is weird.

And, right now, absolutely _none_ of it matters. At _all_. I can’t bring myself to pay attention to a single word. I feel too _good_. Not because of the sex, although, okay, that helps. Just because of Kenma, because Kenma loves me, and I never realized how _important_ that was. I knew I wanted it, I knew it hurt that he didn’t love me – or, that I thought he didn’t love me – but I feel like a totally different person. I can breathe more easily, I’m not tense, I can sit up straight, and I swear to god, I can see more clearly. Kenma loves me, he loves me, and I’m not fighting myself anymore: it’s okay if I tell him I love him, it’s okay if I touch him, I don’t have to hide any of that from him anymore. The hole in my chest is filled in.

I wrap my arm around Kenma’s shoulders and he settles against my side. We do it all the time, it’s so simple, but I don’t have to worry anymore, because I don’t _care_ if he thinks I’m doing it because I’m gay for him. He _knows_ I’m super-duper gay for him. He _knows_ I love him. And if my putting my arm around his shoulders shows that, well, good, he _should_ know I love him.

“I hope I won’t steal the blankets,” he murmurs absentmindedly.

“You won’t.”

“How d’you know?”

“Cause – uh. That night you had an episode, and I sat there with you ‘til you fell asleep? I sorta passed out with you. For, like, five hours. And I can say pretty definitively that you didn’t steal the blankets. Or kick. Or drool.”

He smiles at his game. “I had a dream that you stayed.”

“Nah, that was probably pretty real.”

“Good. And I guess that means I can say that _you_ don’t steal the blankets, either. Or kick. I don’t know about the drool, it probably would’ve dried by the time I woke up, but that’s gross, so I’m not gonna think about it.”

“Mm. You know, that’s called _abjection_? When you hate something your body has cast off? Like drool and shit and jizz.”

“I never wanted to know that.”

“But now you do. Don’t you feel enlightened? Did you ever wanna think about snot as an abject?”

“No.”

“You sure?”

“Yup.”

“Really sure?”

“I will absolutely break your nose.”

“You _love_ my nose.”

“Doesn’t mean I won’t break it.”

“Wait, I was kidding, you actually love my nose?”

He hits pause and twists up to kiss my nose. I probably should’ve seen that coming, but I totally didn’t, and he turns back to his game before I can react.

“Abjects come out of there, you know.”

“Hush while you’re ahead.”

“Actually, I’m gonna keep going for a minute, ‘cause I just remembered something. Remember how I told you I’d tell you why I kept pulling away from you? I thought you were gonna start dating someone else soon, and I figured it’d be easier on me if I’d separated from you, emotionally, before you actually left me. I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve it.” I kiss the top of his head.

He reaches up without looking, nearly takes my eye out, and pats my cheek. “Oh. Well, I got really clingy, and I’m sorry for that, too.”

“Your clinginess didn’t give me a panic attack.”

“Well, no, but it was still weird.”

“Honestly? You can be as clingy as you’d like.”

“Don’t say that unless you mean it,” he warns.

“I mean it.”

He frowns. “Do you hear that?”

He pauses his game and looks at me, and I hear it. The steady thumping. The muffled moaning.

“Oh.”

“Nope!” Kenma grabs my duvet and tugs it over our heads.

It falls pretty heavily, actually. Unfortunately.

“This might be a little hypocritical,” he says, calmly, his voice muffled under the blanket. I breathe in a loose feather as it escapes the confines of cloth. “But I don’t really wanna listen to them. Were _we_ that loud?”

I cough up the feather. Kenma waits patiently. “Um.” I clear my throat. “I have no goddamn idea, but I’m willing to bet we’ll find out tomorrow morning.”

“Ew.”

“Yeah.”

He sighs. I can still hear the thumping, so he probably can, too.

I hold up the blanket. I can be tent poles if it means I don’t have to inhale half my duvet. “Heard any good stuff in your music classes recently?”

He lights up. Oh my _god_ , he loves that shit so much. Where did this come from? He wasn’t _always_ this into classical music. He’s _never_ been into classical music. But here he is, on his phone, because –

“Einaudi is awesome, he’s just – so good, I wonder if he realizes how awesome he is? Just – listen. Listen to this.”

I think he’s actually holding his breath as it begins, quick piano and violin, filling the tiny space under the blanket. Kenma watches me with wide eyes as the violin hints at the beginnings of a crescendo. His toes twitch as the piano picks up, the violin growing into a crescendo, and he actually sits up straight when it peaks, like music could override years of bad posture. When it ends, he looks at me with shining golden eyes, and it’s pretty nearly the same expression he wears when he gets a new video game. He’s _adorable_.

He laughs when I push him onto his back and fall on him, folding my hands under his head as a support and resting my head on his chest. My body settles between his legs. He looks up another song and lets it play, one hand in my hair, one hand on his phone, eyes fixed on the blanket.

I hear it when his heartbeat slows down. I feel it when his breathing evens out. I notice when his hand stops moving in my hair.

“Love you, Kenma.”

He pats my head and mumbles, “My Kuro.”

The song stops and he doesn’t pick a new one.

I don’t remember the glow of his screen fading.

When I wake up, though, it’s to the smell of his skin, the silk of his hair on my arm, the faint touch of his breath on the inside of my elbow. I’m nuzzling his arm. I probably drooled on it.

I lift my head up and check his skin. Kenma’d probably shoot me if I drooled on him.

“Mmmo?”

It’s probably offensive, the amount of shock in my voice when I say “you’re awake?”

He blinks at me. “Mmmm.”

“You can go back to sleep, we don’t have practice ‘til later.”

He shakes his head and struggles. He wiggles like a worm for a minute, feet kicking uselessly against the sheets, until he gives in and collapses.

He stares up at me.

I stare down at him.

He kicks a foot.

I give in. I shove my face into his armpit. I don’t wanna wake up the whole neighborhood. Although, there are worse things to wake up to than the laughter of children. Or the cackling of a young adult.

Kenma sighs, but when I lift my face and wipe my tears on his shoulder, he’s smiling at me.

“Need help getting up?”

He nods.

I sit up, take his hands, and pull. When he finds his way up, I kiss him, a little kiss, on dry lips, because I can. I can _do_ that now.

He blushes bright red and thunks his head against my chest.

I rub his back. “Was that okay?”

He nods.

“Mm. Y’know what else I was thinking about, we’ve gotta come up with a sign or something – so if you go nonverbal during sex, you can tell me to stop or keep going. Have you combusted yet?”

I feel the burst of warm air when he huffs.

He picks his head up after a minute, though, and nods. He mimes brushing his teeth and climbs out of bed carefully, like he’s worried the floor might rise up against him and toss him back into bed.

I follow him to the sinks. Bokuto and Akaashi are already there, but Akaashi moves over so Kenma and I can have the second sink. I nod at him. Kenma doesn’t appear to notice the existence of other living beings – not that I’m entirely sure that _he_ counts as a living being just now, but hey.

“Pancakes?” Bo asks through his toothbrush.

“Yeah, I’ll make ‘em,” I respond through my toothbrush.

Bo spits. “Kenma, feel free to mention any sudden cravings you’re having – beef, rice, anything – just let Kuroo know. He’ll get up early just so he can learn to make it for you, and, incidentally, for me, a hungry, growing boy in dire need of homecooked food.”

Kenma blinks at Bokuto’s reflection. I can see the moment when it registers, though, because his eyes meet mine in the mirror.

He mumbles something through a mouthful of toothpaste. I scoot him out of the way so I can rinse.

“You’re not a growing boy, actually. Don’t you start shrinking after a certain age?” Kenma threatens to spit on me if I don’t move. I back away. “I’ll be in the kitchen.”

Kenma trails after me a minute later. After a couple false starts, he manages to speak. “Di’you really learn to make pancakes for me?”

“Well, Bo was having a bad day, and I thought it would cheer him up if he could teach me something.” My heart rate picks up and I turn away. It’s weird, who _does_ gay shit like –

He wraps his arms around my waist. “’T’s okay. I love you too.”

Oh. “Sorry. Old habits die hard.” I squeeze his hand, ‘cause I can do that. “And yeah, I learned to make them for you.”

“I know.”

“Ohoho,” Bo says. Kenma jumps and nearly performs a perfect Heimlich maneuver on me, which would’ve been really unfortunate, since I’m standing right over a bowl full of flour. “Akaashi and I can head out, if you feel like repeating last night.”

Kenma squeezes me tighter. I’m actually gonna puke soon. He’s pressing right on my stomach.

“We could hear you too, y’know.”

“I’m a great lay, of course you could.”

“Are you? Are you really? Akaashi, did he fistbump you when you were done?”

I hear choking.

“Kuroo, you killed Akaashi!”

I glance over my shoulder to see Bo whacking the crap out of Akaashi’s back. Akaashi looks like he’s about ready to commit murder.

“No? Why would he?” He asks, fighting back Bokuto.

“We fucked once in freshman year. He fistbumped me at the end.”

Kenma giggles. “Hold on, I saved the text you sent me.”

“I texted you? Didn’t I call you?”

“Yeah, the next day, but you texted me the night of.”

“What’d I say?”

“Gimme a minute and I’ll tell you.”

He scrolls at a speed usually reserved for ignoring non-cat-related vines, and – “Found it. Okay.” He clears his throat and sits up straight. “Fucked Bo? Not sure why. He fistbumped me after he threw away the condom. Kenma I don’t think that’s normal? Is that like a physical ‘no homo’ cause we are both very homo and I’m confused. Anyway I’m going to bed, gnight, I’ll call you tomorrow.”

I slide down to the floor. “A physical no homo!” I howl.

“We are both very homo?” Akaashi quotes. “Was – was that a revelation at the time? For either of you?”

I shake my head. Bokuto thumps his head against the wall. Akaashi grabs his shirt and tugs him back.

“Don’t do that, you’ll hurt yourself.”

“I have _improved_!” He cries. “Drastically!”

“You have, you have,” Akaashi says soothingly. He sits and pulls Bokuto into his lap.

I glance at Kenma. He shrugs at me. He doesn’t know what to do in this situation, either. What am I supposed to say? _Yeah, Bo, your dick is bomb_? Not gonna work.

“Owl, you want chocolate chip pancakes?”

“Yes!”

“All righty.”

Akaashi is good for him. I never thought I’d be able to sit somewhere with Bo in _silence_ , not without him being in a bad mental state, but here we are, all four of us, sitting silently in the kitchen. When I glance over my shoulder, he’s grinning at Akaashi, playing with his hair. It’s kinda gross. And _good_. Bokuto’s wanted this for too long. He deserves to be gross.

I pour batter onto the griddle. It’s the loudest thing in the room, louder than even the clicking of Kenma’s DS as he hits the buttons at an obscene speed.

I nudge my spatula under the pancakes. They resist. Not ready yet.

I glance at Kenma over my shoulder. He’s perfect, in his boxers and my shirt – actually, when the fuck did he put that on? Do I care? Nope – and he’s my – boyfriend. My _boyfriend_. _My_ boyfriend. _My boyfriend_. Actually, is he? Did he ever use that word? I don’t remember. What are we?

I flip the pancakes. Bo should get the first plate – he’s gotta take his meds.

“Owl, you should take the first plate –” I say, as Akaashi says “Give Bokuto the first plate, he needs –” and Kenma says “Let Koutarou have the first plate, he’s gotta –”

I snicker. “Bro, did you ever think you’d be living with three moms?”

“No, but my real mom would be happy if I told her.”

“Bro, I’m offended, are you saying I’m a fake mom? Eat your pancakes. They were made with love and chocolate chips. Because I love you, my son. Take your pills.”

“That’s the realest mom impression I’ve ever heard.”

I give Akaashi the second plate. “Here, my second son, eat your breakfast.”

“That’s weird.”

“Don’t call your mother weird, young man.”

“I don’t want to be Bokuto’s brother.”

“Oh. Yeah, that’s weird. Okay. I’ll be your – godmother.”

“You believe in God?”

“Not the point.”

“If you insist.”

I turn back to the griddle and Kenma appears at my side. “Hungry?”

He nods.

I kiss his hair. “Sorry, kitten.”

He shakes his head and taps away at his phone. _It’s good. I wanted to eat with you, anyway._

“That’s pretty gay.”

 _We_ are _gay._

“Yeah. That’s some gay shit, right there.”

_I hate you._

“I love you anyway.”

He bumps his head against my shoulder. I wrap my arm around him and try to pretend it’s _totally_ casual. I am _used_ to this. I kinda am, really. It’s not like we ever worried much about personal space. Except in the past few years, but _that_ was just cause I didn’t want him to know how much I loved him. So I am absolutely sorta used to this.

Then again, I’ve been thinking about it for five minutes, so hey.

I flip the pancakes. _Our_ pancakes. The pancakes _I’m making_ for _Us_. Capital U Us. ‘Cause we’re a _thing_. Oh man.

Kenma slips out from under my arm so he can grab a plate, holding it out to me in readiness for the deliciousness I’ve been working on for the past, like, three minutes. He’s got perfect timing. I flip the pancakes right onto his plate.

Bo’s practically done with his by the time we sit down, but Akaashi waited for us. He’s a good person. Of course, he didn’t have three people telling him to eat so he could take his pills, either, so that makes life a little easier for him.

“They good, Owl?”

He nods. “I taught you well. I don’t owe you for helping me with English anymore.”

“Didn’t he help you for four years?” Akaashi asks.

“Not the point.”

I shake my head. “No, no, you owe me still. I need you to teach me how to make apple pie.”

Kenma’s head pops up.

Bokuto’s eyes roll so far back in his head I think he might actually be able to see his brain. “Kenma, I swear to god, tell him you like stir fry or something. Actually, if you gimme a day or two, I can assemble an entire _list_ of meals I want someone to cook for me. I need you to tell him you like _all of them_.”

I point my fork at him. “I don’t need your sass.”

“Yes, you do. Kenma. Kenma, look at me. I need you to understand this, because he’s too dumb to tell you. He wouldn’t just kill a man for you. He would learn to bake a goddamn pie for you. He would sweat his ass off under thirty blankets for you. He would whip an entire team into shape for you. I need you to take advantage of this for me. I _need_ good food. All right?”

Kenma stares at him.

He nods. “Good.” He steals a piece of Akaashi’s pancakes. “Fuck, these are delicious.”

Either I’m embarrassed, or a dragon is breathing on my neck. Bokuto’s misinterpreting Kenma’s stare. That’s not a stare of agreement, that’s one of _comprehension._ What the hell is he comprehending?

We eat in silence until Akaashi finishes and gets dragged out of the kitchen, not that he looks particularly unwilling to go. And then Kenma starts playing with his hands.

“What’s up?”

He pulls out his phone.

When he shows it to me, it says: _you really love me a lot?_

I nod. “More than that, probably.” I chew on my lip. “Back in middle school, I didn’t ask you to join the volleyball team because I thought you’d make the team stronger. I mean, I knew you _would_ , but that’s not why I asked you to join. I just – I knew it was gonna take up all my time, and I needed you there. I couldn’t keep that kind of commitment for too long if it meant staying away from you. If you’d refused to join, I’d’ve probably quit.” He’s staring at me with wide eyes. “I love volleyball, but I love you more.” Hmm. What else? Oh. “I studied with you more than anyone else ‘cause I needed to know that you’d end up in my school. I took the most extensive notes in the classes I knew you’d be taking. If you ended up in a different college, I’d probably have transferred, honestly. Unless you were close by, I guess?”

He’s still staring at me.

“Not that I was stalking you,” I say quickly. Wait. What if that wasn’t what he was thinking? What if that was basically me admitting to stalking him? Oh god. “Um. Sorry. It was – weird.”

He pulls out his phone again.

Is this the part when he tells me sorry, he didn’t realize I was such a fucking creep, and maybe we should just end this here so he can run as far as possible?

_Are you ashamed that you love me?_

I reread it. Ashamed? “What? No, why would I be?”

He taps at it for a minute.

_Whenever you say it, you get embarrassed._

“It’s not – Kenma, I –” I take a deep breath, stick out my tongue and make a _phthbhbhbth_ sound, and try again. “I’m not used to being able to love you. I’ve just – loved you for so _long_. And it never mattered. I could never tell you, or kiss you, or stray _too_ far from the bounds of friendship, y’know?”

He nods. Right. He _does_ know.

“I never expected – _this_. I didn’t think I’d ever be able to tell you any of this, not without pushing you away or freaking you out or _something._ So – it became embarrassing to me.” Holy shit, I fucking _suck_ at talking about my emotions. “Like, I’d start thinking about how much I loved you, and just – _Kuroo, you pathetic idiot, he doesn’t love you back, why won’t you take the goddamn hint_? And eventually I just sorta gave up, ‘cause it was clear that it wasn’t working, but – you know. So all of this just feels like – the end. The thing that’s gonna make you leave me. And also like revealing that I’m pathetic. And it’s taking me longer than it should to get over it.”

He stands up.

Oh, god. It would be _just_ _like me_ to give a lengthy speech about not wanting him to go, and drive him away with that very speech! Wow! My life is a disaster!

He pulls my seat out, takes my hand, and hauls me up. Right, that’s probably not him leaving me, unless he plans on walking me directly out to the curb with the trash. Which, actually, would be hilarious, and I should do it to someone at some point in the future.

He walks me into my bedroom, though, and tugs me into bed with him. He curls up with me under our collection of blankets, frowns, and scooches far enough away from me that he can pull out his phone.

_New sign._

He taps my heart and returns to his phone.

_That means “I love you.”_

He taps my heart again, and curls up against my chest.

Every so often I whisper it – “I love you” – and I feel him tap my heart in response. Sometimes, he taps my chest, and I respond verbally. And I start to get used to it – to the idea that I can say it, I can tell him I love him, and he won’t go anywhere.

Practice comes closer, closer, and for the first time in a long time I don’t want to go.

“I’ve loved you for so long I don’t remember what it’s like to exist without loving you,” I murmur. He taps my heart.

“When I was little I used to plan out our future – we’d have a nice house with lots of windows and pillows and a comfy bed. You’d have every video game you ever wanted, I’d have a library in the living room, we’d sit in the sunlight on piles of pillows and do nothing all goddamn day long.”

He taps my heart.

“I always got really excited whenever I’d see elderly couples – like, they could be us, like we could be that, someday, old and happy and together, forever, ‘cause being together that long seemed like it would sorta guarantee us _forever_.”

He taps my chest, again and again, until his phone buzzes.

He glares at it, then shows it to me.

_Are you guys alive cause we gotta leave for practice in like half an hour and if Kuroo’s hair isn’t done right he’s gonna whine all night long_

“ _I_ whine if my hair isn’t done right?” I grumble as we crawl out of our sanctuary. “ _I_ don’t gel my hair at 2 in the afternoon ‘cause six hours of being awake made it imperfect.”

Kenma rolls his eyes at me.

“I don’t!”

He stares at me.

“What!”

He points at my hair.

“What about it?”

He stretches up to tap my hands, which are, admittedly, fixing my hair. “Listen. I’ve been lying on it. It’s not my fault it needs to be redone.”

He rolls his eyes and taps at his phone.

_We’re literally only going to volleyball, it’s not like it’s not gonna get messed up again._

“Hair is important, Kenma. And if you put enough gel in it, it’ll stay still through _anything_.”

He opens the door, disrupting my view of the full-length mirror on its back, just in time for Bokuto to shout:

“Is Kuroo doing his hair?”

Kenma steps out into the hallway and nods.

“Traitor.”

He flutters his eyelashes at me.

“You don’t have to clean up, Akaashi and I did.”

Kenma salutes him and heads into his own room. Mm. We’ve gotta move his stuff in here. If he wants? Maybe he doesn’t want. I can’t blame him if he wants his own space. And he’s _way_ messier than I am, maybe he wouldn’t want to live with my Neat Freak self?

Or, maybe, I could just fuckin’ ask him. Ah, the power of the question, may I never again forget it.

I wiggle into workout pants and meet Kenma in the hallway. “Did you want to move your stuff into my room? I mean, it’s cool if you don’t, but –”

He nods rapidly, smiling up at me.

I kiss his forehead. He taps my heart.

“I love you.” I’m also grinning like a fucking idiot. I can’t help it. Just _saying_ it and having him _smile back_ is – the most – _unbelievable_ thing that’s ever happened to me.

There are a billion timelines where he gave up on me, or never loved me in the first place, but in this one, he loves me.

My phone buzzes. Why’s he texting me when he’s standing right – nope, that’s a phone call, that’s my mom. Right. Other people have my number, as well.

“Hi, mom.”

“I got a kitten.”

I grab Kenma. “What?”

“I got a kitten. This morning. I told you I’ve wanted one for a while.”

“A _kitten_?”

Kenma’s eyes light up.

“Yes, pay attention, I got a kitten, I have it right now, it peed all over the carpet.”

“ _You got a kitten?”_

“Tetsurou. Listen to me. I have a kitten. Okay? I have a kitten right now. It peed on the carpet.”

“Oh my god! Kenma, my mom got a kitten!”

“Is Kozume there? I’ll send pictures. I don’t know what to name her. I don’t know if I want to decide yet. What if her name doesn’t fit her?”

“Mom, why did you get a kitten!”

“I’ve wanted one for a while. And Belle was in a good mood today, so I decided it was time.”

“You – got the cat because of Belle’s mood?”

Kenma frowns at me.

“I couldn’t get a kitten if she was in a _bad_ mood, could I?”

“Why don’t you just – wait? Won’t it be easier –” I can’t say _when Belle is dead_ , my mom’ll bury me – “if the kitten is the only cat in the house?”

“Belle will help train her. Cats are good like that.”

“I think that’s dogs.”

“Cats are smart. Anyway, I have to go, gotta clean up the cat pee. Bye, sweetheart!”

“Bye, mom.”

I turn to Kenma. “She got a _kitten_ because Belle was in a good mood, so she decided it was the right time.”

Kenma types frantically. _How has she raised Belle without KILLING her????!?!?!?!?!_

“I have no friggin clue, to be perfectly honest, but – well, if Belle’s still alive, maybe the kitten will survive?”

_THAT’S NOT COMFORTING!!!_

“I know, I know, but – oh, she’s texting me, oh my _god_ , look how cute that kitten is!”

Kenma bounces up and down over my phone, eyes glued to the little ball of gold on the screen, the little gold streak in a blurry picture, the flash of a gold tail behind the couch.

“Are you guys – what’re you looking at?”

Kenma holds my phone out for Bo.

“Why am I looking at the couch?”

“There’s a kitten behind that couch.”

“Do you think I have X-Ray vision?”

“Is everyone ready?” Akaashi calls.

“My mom got a kitten,” I inform him.

“Does that mean we’re not ready?”

Bo hands me my phone, turns, and starts at the sight of Akaashi. “Dude, you got changed.”

“I was in my pajamas.”

“You look hot today. No homo,” he adds as Akaashi turns towards the door. Akaashi pauses, just in time for Bo to slap his ass on his way past and yell, “ _sike_!”

He heads out the door alone and laughing.

Akaashi and Kenma sigh.

“You know,” he muses, “I really do love him, but sometimes, I question my life choices.”

I snort. “Good luck.”

He smiles a little and follows Bokuto. “I don’t think I’ll need it.”

I take Kenma’s hand. “That’s adorable.”

He nods, taps my heart with his free hand, and tugs me out the door.


	13. Kenma

I was 99% right, when I said that Kuro and I have been dating for years without realizing it.

I mean, I didn’t think I was wrong when I said it. I just didn’t realize how close to correct I was. And then we had sex and, I mean, that’s new, so I didn’t really think about it. But – everything just – slipped into place, the same as it’s always been, but better, because we don’t have to worry anymore.

When I reach for his hand, I don’t have to stop myself. I can lean in for a kiss and don’t have to pull back. I play my video games and he gives me advice – good advice when he’s being a know-it-all, bad advice when he’s being a dick – with his face three inches from mine and the warmth of his breath on my skin. I pass out on his shoulder and wake up alone, because he gets up before I do, but I’m in his bed, not just his jacket. On the three days this week when he didn’t have to leave earlier than Koutarou and I did for class, I woke up to him, kissing my forehead and stroking my hair. When we go to volleyball practice, we’re in sync like always, but he kisses my nose, squeezes my hand, and it feels right, it feels easy, it feels normal.

The only difference is that I never realized – I never knew – how _much_ he loves me, how – he would do anything for me, and I didn’t notice, somehow, how did I miss something so obvious? Me, the one who watches people, who evaluates them and understands them and predicts their moves – I somehow completely, absolutely, missed all the evidence that he loved me. How? Is it because – I mean, what if he – I shouldn’t have missed something so obvious, right? What if it – wasn’t –

I blink at my computer screen.

My paper currently consists of my name, the due date, and half an introduction, because instead of writing it, I’m worrying about a problem that doesn’t exist.

Then again, maybe I’m worrying about nothing because this paper is incredibly, insistently, resolutely boring. It resists being written.

I glance over at Kuro. He’s a much nicer view than my computer screen.

He’s got his history book open on the floor, and he’s lying over the couch, with his head dangling over the seat and his feet sticking out over the back. He hasn’t turned the page in ten minutes and appears to be eating his pencil. I’m – a fan of his mouth. Is that weird? Do I care? His back is arched, and his butt is squished up.

“Kuro.”

He jumps – dangerous, when his head is only a foot away from the floor. “Yeah?”

“I’m bored.”

“Me too.”

There are probably more tactful ways to say this, but – “Wanna have sex?”

He raises an eyebrow. “You sure? I mean, there are probably other ways to combat boredom, y’know.”

He’s tapping his pencil against his lip. His shirt is riding up, and I can see his side, his lower back, the curve up towards his ass – I nod.

He hauls himself upright. “Then, _hell_ yeah.”

I barely manage to stand before he’s scooping me up, carrying me bridal style into his room. “I _can_ walk.”

He kisses my ear. “So?”

I trail a finger down the back of his neck. He shivers. Oh. I can feel goosebumps when I run my finger back up to his hairline, but then he actually stops walking and just – looks – at me, and there’s so little gold in his eyes, oh my god, maybe I should – not do that, not until he’s sitting down and not holding me, anyway. Jesus.

He sets me on his bed, settling between my knees, kissing me, brushing his nose against mine, pulling away. “Wanna top again, or wanna try bottoming?”

I blink at him. “Do you want me to bottom?”

He snorts. “I practically fuckin’ _dream_ about your ass in the air for me, but that’s not the point.” His face turns red, but he keeps looking at me, so I don’t turn away, even though – he dreams about me? “Point is, I’m happy to bottom _or_ top, and really have no preference, so it’s up to you. I won’t let you bottom until you’re ready.”

“You – you’d – be – careful, with me, right?”

“Yeah, but we’re not doing it if you’re scared.”

He wouldn’t hurt me, not in a billion years, but – I – don’t – not yet. “Then I’ll top.”

He kisses the corner of my mouth and reaches for his bedside table.

“What were you working on?” He asks as he pulls off his pants.

“Japanese paper. On the symbolism of forests in the book we read. Can I do it?” I motion at the lube in his hand.

“You sure? It’s at least a little bit gross.”

“Gimme a condom, I’ll put it on my fingers.”

“Smart.” He rips open a condom for me and I hold out my index finger. “What book did you guys have to read?”

“No idea.” I pour lube on my condom-wrapped finger as Kuro tugs off his shirt and settles into the bed. Is that enough? Is there such a thing as too much? “I Googled a summery.”

“Go slow,” Kuro cautions, probably unnecessarily. I wouldn’t go fast if someone was holding a gun to my head. Ah well. I’ve never done this before, I don’t blame him. “Maybe, just a suggestion, the paper would be easier if you’d read the book?”

What did Kuro do last time? He circled – I try it and he jumps and I freeze, but he grins. “Lube’s just cold, you’re – better than good, other than that.”

“Okay.” I screw with the condom until I can rub the lube between my fingers. Hopefully it’ll warm it up? “The book was horrible. I tried.” I go back to circling his asshole and he sighs. “Forests only pop up five times in the whole book, so why should I bother suffering through the rest of it?” I press the tip of my finger inside him and – oh, god, I can _feel him relaxing_ , relaxing to let me in, Jesus.

“What do they symbolize? Is five times even often enough to count as a symbol?”

“My professor approved it. I said they symbolize darkness and she told me to be more specific.” I slide the rest of my finger in, slowly, slowly, but he seems to be doing all right, he’s okay, not even breathing hard, relaxed.

“So what are you writing about?”

“The phallic imagery of the forest and how it brings sexuality to the forefront of the text, drawing attention to the manifold issues the main character has with his own sexuality.”

“What?”

“I have literally no idea. Are you okay for a second finger?”

“Yeah, as long as you go slow. How’d you even come up with it?”

“Ok. Keiji told me that everything is phallic, so I just – ran with that.”

He snickers. “How much weird shit do you think you can – fuck, wait, hold still – no, I lied, turn your hand so it’s facing up – yeah, there, if you –” He bends his fingers. “It’ll – be good, yeah.”

I mimic him and he clenches around me, moans, his hands jerking towards me – oh. That’s – good, yeah. I start scissoring my fingers. I’m – yeah.

He takes a deep breath and relaxes again. “Remember that for the future. Anyway. How many suggestive phrases do you think you can squeeze into your essay? Like, _pulsing sensation_? _Throbbing_? What about _thick and hard_?”

I find the spot and crook my fingers again and he shuts up.

“The protagonist thinks the forest has a heartbeat.”

“ _Pulsing sensati – ohhh fuck_ , oh god, Kenma – but – it’s a – throbbing forest – Jesus _fuck_ – just go for a third finger, fucking do – it – _shit_.”

I go for the third finger. “I will be _dead_ before I write the phrase _throbbing forest_. What about you?”

“I am ready and willing to write _throbbing forest_ whenever I possibly can.”

“No, what were you working on? You looked beyond bored.”

He grimaces. “History is just – ugh.”

“What are you learning?”

“If I knew what I was learning, I wouldn’t have these problems.”

“But what _is_ it?”

“Um. The Cold War? But – I don’t know, I’m not understanding it, who was involved, what their motivat – _oooh_ – uh – motivations were – or – anything, oh _god_.”

“Google it.”

“Smart. Please put your dick inside me.”

 _Jesus_. “I – yeah. Okay.”

“Need help with the condom?”

“About as much as I need help strangling myself.”

“Didn’t realize you were into being choked.”

I whirl and hold the condom out of his reach. “Do _not_.”

I stand to pull off my pants, but once I’m back on the bed he – carefully – sits up, starts kissing me, kissing the back of my neck as I fiddle with the condom. And, Jesus, I can feel the heat of his breath, and the warmth of his hand sliding through my hair to hold it out of the way so he can trail wet lips over my neck – was that his _tongue?_ My eyes slide shut as he closes his teeth on my skin. My breath hitches almost painfully when he brings his lips to my skin and _sucks_ , “Kuro, oh god, Kuro –”

“Looks like you’re having some trouble with that condom,” he whispers.

I shove my elbow into his stomach. “You just ruined the moment.”

“Are you still gonna fuck me? ‘Cause honestly, even if you don’t, I’ll be pretty okay with the hickey you’re gonna have. I have high hopes for it.”

I clap my hand to it. “Oh.”

“Shit, wait, is it gonna be a problem? Your hair’ll probably cover it. And I’ve got makeup, I know how to cover them up –”

“No, no, that’s – it’s – not – a problem. I just –” Oh my god. I – he – marked me? But – that makes me sound like a cow that got branded, but it’s – not, it’s not, it’s – holy shit. “It’s – good, it’s – yeah. I – oh my god.” I _need_ the condom to be on me. _Now._

“You sure you don’t need help with that?”

I shoot him a glare, but I don’t think he gets the point, ‘cause he just bites his knuckles and looks away.

I get the condom on just fine, and all on my own. Kuro flutters his eyelashes at me when I turn to face him.

“Lube?”

He passes it to me.

“So I was thinking,” I start.

“ _I_ was thinking about the pulsing sensation that’s about to be in my ass.”

I sigh. “I know I’m shorter than you are, but I think – we could try – you on your knees? I mean, if it doesn’t work, it doesn’t work, but –”

“Yes. Yeah. Mmhmm. I’m absolutely all for that, oh my god, I’ve been thinking about it and we should be fine, my first instinct was that it wouldn’t work but I think I was wrong, I mean, you’re not _that_ short, and proportionally –”

“Kuro.”

He turns around slowly, grinning at me over his shoulder as he bends over, and I am blushing, I am _absolutely_ blushing, but I can’t look away, I just –

“I am _so_ glad I have a nice ass,” he says fervently. “Second best decision I ever made.”

“Second? What was the first?”

“Telling you I loved you.”

My face goes up in flames, but I can’t hide my face in his chest, he’s facing the wrong way, this should be illegal. “You’ll have to thank Koutarou for pushing you to do it.”

“No, no, not – not like that.” He straightens a little so he can look at me better, sitting back down on his heels so I know he’s serious. “Just – wait. Wait: ok: I love you, Kenma. See, _that_ was the best decision of my life. Or – Kenma, I love you. Wow, new best decision of my entire life. See? Shit, I should’ve put on sunscreen, you’re so bright you’re gonna give me sunburn.”

“Good,” I mumble. “You probably deserve it. For being sappy.”

“Okay, okay, no more sappiness. Wanna stick your dick in me now, or…?”

I glance up at the ceiling. If there’s a god up there, he’s – never mind. I can’t even complain.

I shuffle forward as he lowers himself onto his elbows and my brain nearly shuts down, Jesus, but I make it to the point where I can put my hands on his ass without combusting, that’s good, I have to take a second, but it’s okay, and also, he loves me, he loves me so much I don’t even know what to do with myself – but also, he’s waiting, so I guide myself inside him, reminding myself to go slow, slow, because I can feel his muscles tensing, can hear how shallow his breath is, so I slow down, pause for a minute until he nods at me to keep going. He grins at me over his shoulder, but bites his lip instead of saying something annoying, which has the dual affect of not making me get up and leave and also turning me on, so. So.

I stop when my hips hit his ass. For me just as much as him, because, um, oh god.

And then he snickers.

He’s looking away, trying to keep it in, but – it’s not working.

“What?”

He shakes his head. “Just – a meme.”

“A – I am balls deep in your ass right now and you’re thinking about a meme?”

He bursts out laughing, his hyena laugh, twisting to the side a little. There is _no_ way that’s comfortable. “That’s it! That’s the fuckin’ meme! Person A says something stupid, and Person B is just like _I am literally balls deep right now_ , I can’t believe it, I can’t believe you just said that, it’s like you read my _mind_ –”

“Are you telling me I just memed while being balls deep?”

“That is _exactly_ what I’m telling you.”

“I don’t think this is gonna work out.”

He grins at me. “Oh, come on, we’re so compatible we’re like puzzle pieces.”

“From opposite sides of the puzzle, maybe.”

“As long as it’s the same puzzle, I don’t care.”

“I can’t believe this.”

“Wanna know what _I_ can’t believe? The pulsing sensation in my asshole. The throbbing tree currently – no, no, don’t look away, don’t leave, I’ll stop, I swear, I’m done,” he laughs as I start pulling out.

“You are _awful_.”

“I’m also starting to get uncomfortable. I gotta be honest, I didn’t think I’d be in this position so long. I haven’t lasted more than, like, thirty seconds since I gave up on trying to masturbate to other people, and it’s been a while since I was in this position, and it’s probably not great for my knees. No, no, I am _not_ switching positions, just – _you_ should start using your throbbing member – wait, shit, I said I was done, didn’t I, sorry, sorry, I forgot, I swear, oh my god.”

My throbbing member. I’m gonna _decapitate_ him.

I sigh and start moving, and, oh, I must be at around the right angle to hit – hmm. How deep were my fingers? So it would probably be – hmm.

Kuro narrows his eyes at me. It’s gotta be painful, twisting his neck like that. “Why do you look like you’re doing complicated calculations in your head? If you’re doing physics, I swear I – oo _oohhh Godfuck – Kenma –_ oh, _shit_ , yeah, if you just wanna do that, like, another couple times, I’ll be sitting up before I even get a – _fuck!_ ”

“L-like having a – an – off-switch.” He stopped twisting around to look at me, too, and now I have a _beautiful_ view of the long line of his spine, all the way up to his neck. I trail my fingers over his skin. He breaks out in goosebumps wherever I touch him. I – I can’t believe – I can’t believe that _I_ have this effect on him, that I’m the one who can do this to him – I run my fingers over his ribs and watch his muscles twitch, I – wow.

“You are short of breath, don’t even pretend you’re – _ahh yeah –_ d-don’t even pretend you’re n-not.”

I hunch over so I can press my face into his back and grind my hips against him. God, he’s _stuttering_ , and now that he’s not talking, he’s moaning, and –

“Kenma, K – jesus _fuck_ , Kenma –”

– and saying my name, oh _god_ , “Kuro, can I speed up?”

“Y-yes, _shit_.”

Christ, okay, okay, I – _lord_ , he’s so – I can _feel_ him, clenching around me – just – oh, fuck, “Kuro, Kuro, my K-Kuro –”

I adjust myself, my angle, and he cries out and arches even further and – and when I grind into him he grabs at the sheets, at the headboard, his legs quivering – and – and – no, breathe, look at the wall –

“K-Kenma, ah –”

I clench my teeth and give up and look at him and at his whole body stretched out for me and – and – I bite the skin to the left of his spine and he groans, loud, so cute – “Kuro –” I kiss his spine, wherever I can reach – run my nails down his side – straighten so I can slam into him, just –

He doesn’t – last long, suddenly he’s – grabbing at the bedframe, with one hand, grabbing at his dick with the other, my name spilling over his lips as he clenches around me and his whole body jolts and – and I – and – I – oh, oh, _Kuro –_

I press my face against him as I shake.

I slide out of him as soon as I can manage it, and he whines as he flops over onto his side. He uses his leg to pull me towards him, grabbing my arm as soon as I’m within reach and pulling me down and rolling over until he’s nearly on top of me, wrapped around me like a leech. There’s jizz on his stomach and I’m still wearing the condom and it’s gross, all of it’s gross, but – he just – holds me. And shakes. And I’m still shaking a little, anyway, so I wrap my arms around him and let him hold me.

“Next,” he says after a few minutes, “we’re gonna work on _stamina_.”

I flush. “I –”

“No, not even just you. I lasted approximately three minutes. You actually lasted _longer_ than I did, and you have had sex a grand total of three times, if we count the handjob I gave you. We can do _better_.”

I withdraw a hand from his back and tap his heart and he sniggers.

“At least you love me regardless of my stamina.”

“Or lack thereof.”

“Damn.”

I tap his heart again. “Okay. I gotta take this condom off.”

He sighs and rolls away. “I’d like to invent a post-sex machine that cleans people off while they lie there, supine, and also, I’d like to maybe have sex not in the middle of the day, maybe closer to nighttime, so I could just pass the fuck out afterwards.”

“Sorry.”

“I mean, I’m not _complaining_. I’m just setting a goal for future me.”

He reaches for the tissues and makes a face at his stomach. “Ew.”

“Mmhmm.” I stand and peel off the condom. “I’m gonna get a box of latex gloves. Condoms for your fingers.”

He stares at me. “That’s genius. I – could’ve avoided actually touching so many assholes.” He tilts his head from side to side. “Then again, for the most part, I really didn’t care. Mm. Still a good idea.”

“Germs exist even when you don’t care.”

“I know. What I was avoiding saying is that I also stuck my tongue in a couple of those assholes, so when it comes right down to it, a latex glove probably wouldn’t have made much of a difference. Next time you smack your head into something, please pick something a little less solid than a wall. I suggest a pillow.”

“Dental dams exist,” I inform the wall.

“What?”

“You’ve had sex with how many people, and you don’t know what a dental dam is?”

“I – yeah, pretty much.”

I stare at the ceiling. He’s obsessive about doing laundry, clutter gives him anxiety, but he – he – okay, I’m not thinking about that, but – he didn’t even _wonder_ if anyone had invented a cleaner way of doing – things? “You can make them out of condoms. All you do is unroll it, cut off the tip, and cut down one of the sides, and then you’ve got a square of latex you can put over – wherever – and – flavored condoms would probably – come in handy.”

The bed creaks, and then he’s pushing aside my hair so he can kiss my neck. “Thank you for telling me. You’ll have to show me how to make one. Although, I guess it’s only useful if you’re willing to be my test subject?”

He told me not to hit my head against the wall, so I grab his arm and hold it up so I can hide my face in it instead.

“Why don’t you hide your face in your own hands? Seems much more convenient.”

“They feel so – inadequate.”

He pats the side of my face with his fingertips. “You don’t even have to think about it if you don’t want to. Ignore it.”

He says that like it’s possible to just – _ignore_ – _that_. Jesus.

I shove it to the back of my mind. I’ll deal with it there. “We should get dressed.”

He takes his arm back. “If you insist.”

I do insist, and we do get dressed.

I’m pulling my shirt over my head when Koutarou screams.

“Bo –?” And then Kuro’s out the door and I’m right behind him, with absolutely no idea how my shirt got on my body and nothing but gratitude for my decision to put on pants first. If there’s someone in the house, I don’t want to greet them with full frontal.

“Bo, what the fuck?”

I follow Kuro into the kitchen.

Koutarou is sitting on the counter. “Don’t come in!” He shrieks. “Don’t go into that corner!”

That corner?

Kuro and I see it at the same time.

Bright red, the length of my palm, scuttling –

I freeze. Kuro jumps on me.

“Jesus _fuck_ what is _that_!”

“Kuro, please don’t scream in my ear.”

“I don’t know bro but it’s gonna kill me!” Koutarou screams back. At least he’s not screaming in my ear.

“It’s a cockroach.”

Kuro’s legs tighten around my hips, and this is a problem.

I turn and head out into the living room.

“Don’t leave me!” Koutarou wails.

I sigh as I unwrap Kuro’s arms and let him fall backwards onto the couch.

“Kenma?”

I nearly have to break his legs to unwind them.

“Kenma, what are you doing?”

I head for the door.

“Kenma, don’t leave us!”

“Kenma’s leaving? Kenma, take me with you!” Koutarou yells from the kitchen. “Oh – oh god, ohgodohgodohgod _it’s flying_ –”

Kuro turns white.

I pick up one of my shoes and return to the kitchen.

Koutarou looks like he’s already dead. The cockroach is crawling on a cabinet half a meter away from his head.

“Kenma?” Kuro whispers from the doorway.

Koutarou doesn’t say a word.

I pick a glass up from the table and dump it without looking away from the cockroach. Here’s hoping it was just water, because whatever it is is now on the floor, and I like to think I contribute more to the cleanliness of this apartment than the dirtiness.

Mm. If I hit the cabinet on the side of the cockroach farthest from Koutarou, it’ll be more likely to fly towards Koutarou than away.

I whack the cabinet between Koutarou and the bug.

I watch as the thing flies, in slow motion, towards Koutarou.

I _hate_ this cockroach.

But – but – I catch it in the glass. I slam my shoe over the opening.

Koutarou stares cross-eyed at the bug, only a few centimeters away from his face. He squeezes his eyes shut.

“Kuro?” I turn to face him. “I’ll need you to open the front door.”

His mouth is actually wide open.

“Kuro, there is nothing but a thin sheet of glass and a shoe between me and a cockroach. I need you to walk to the front door and open it.”

He turns away from me mechanically and opens the door for me.

I head out, look both ways when I reach the sidewalk, release the cockroach onto the road, and run like hell back inside. Kuro slams the door behind me.

“Kenma,” he whispers. “That was. A _cockroach_.”

“Yup.”

Something hits the kitchen floor.

Kuro doesn’t even react.

Amazing.

I head into the kitchen, though, to find Koutarou on the floor next to a puddle of milk.

“Koutarou?”

“Kenma,” he murmurs. “Come here.”

I stand over him.

He reaches towards my face. “You. Are. My _hero._ ”

“Would you be willing to help your hero?”

“Name your price.”

“Clean up the milk.”

“Yes, sir.” He jumps up. “Kuroo! We gotta clean up the milk!”

Kuro salutes. “Anything for my –” He jerks his head towards his room and frowns. “Is that my phone?”

“You are _not_ getting out of this!”

“No, no, I think – hold on. Wait for me.”

Koutarou takes a wide-set stance and crosses his arms over his chest. “Hold on, Kenma. We’ll get that milk cleaned up.”

We stand in silence for a minute. It’s comforting to know that we can’t hear much from here. I mean, I can hear noise, but I can’t make out specific words. So even though we’re loud, Koutarou shouldn’t be able to hear – much of – our – noise – from his room. Very good.

“… did _what_?”

Kuro comes out of his room. I know before I even see his frown that something’s wrong – that’s not a good tone of voice.

“No, no, it’s not normal – I know, I know, but – oh. Oh, God, okay.”

Why does he sound more worried with every word? He’s chewing on his lip between words.

“Yeah, I’ll come home. I – yeah. However long. Bye, mom. Love you.”

He hangs up.

I wait.

“Belle’s been acting weird – staring at walls, hiding in my room, whatever, also, she shit on the living room floor instead of in the litter box.”

“That’s not good!” Not Belle! She’s such a good cat! She doesn’t deserve this!

“So my mom’s gotta take her to the vet and maybe get tests done and – maybe – _maybe_ – put her down.”

“Belle won’t die. She’s too old to die.”

“What?”

“Just saying.”

“Okay. But I’m going home tomorrow, for a few days, so if – just in case. My mom wants me there.”

Koutarou raises his eyebrows and open his mouth. I hold my hand out to stop him. “Of course. When are you leaving?”

“Probably after my second class. I’ll walk you to your appointment with your music professor before I go? Bo, you’ll have to drive separately.”

Koutarou nods. “Does this strike anyone else as –”

I whip around to glare at him. “If you say _overreacting,_ I will go get that cockroach again.”

Kuro dives on Koutarou. “Don’t say it, bro! I’m not willing to go through that again!”

Koutarou grabs the counter to keep from falling over. “Okay, okay, but can we clean up the milk?”

“Yeah, yeah, okay.”

It’s like having two maids. I should start bringing cockroaches in just so I can take them out again and make Koutarou and Kuro clean the whole apartment.

Speaking of. “We should probably check over the apartment to make sure there aren’t any more.”

They both look at me like I’ve suggested chopping off their penises.

“Can we at least wait for Akaashi?” Koutarou asks in a small voice.

We wait for Keiji. Koutarou jumps at small noises, and when Keiji finally walks through the door, Koutarou jumps on _him_.

“There was a cockroach!” He wails.

“Bo, you’re holding him so tightly he doesn’t even have to hold you up,” Kuro says with a snort.

Koutarou glares at him. “Kenma didn’t have to use up much strength to hold _you_ up, either.”

“What are we doing?” Keiji asks. Bless him.

“Searching the apartment for cockroaches,” I inform him. Koutarou blanches. I shrug. “Better than waking up one night with a cockroach crawling on your face, right?”

He gags. Keiji sighs and pats his back. “If I see one, I’ll smash it.”

“Akaashi, you’re my savior, and I love you.”

“You’ll have to let go of me.”

“Right.” Koutarou climbs down with a little grace and absolutely no dignity.

“Where are we looking first?”

I marshal my army around me. It’s a shitty one. Kuro’s all talk, Koutarou would probably faint if he saw another cockroach – but Keiji, at least, is probably willing to kill one if he sees it, so there’s that.

We search the kitchen – every single cabinet, behind all our dishes and Tupperware, behind and under the oven and dishwasher, in every corner. Koutarou actually takes a breath of relief when he finds out that there weren’t any bugs near his food.

“My room next.”

“Why yours?”

“I need peace of mind.”

We search Koutarou’s room next, sifting through his clothes and pulling out his furniture and checking the darkest corners of his closet.

“Kenma’s room next? It’s uninhabited, so he wouldn’t notice if anything was in there.”

“I’ve only been sleeping in your room for, like, a week.”

“Uninhabited.”

“Is not.”

“Is too.”

“Is not.”

“Is too.”

“Is n–”

“ _Cockroach!_ ”

“ _Jesus God where –_ ”

“Nowhere, I had to get your attention, we’re on an important mission and have to focus.”

We search my room while Kuro recites the entire story of the boy who cried “wolf” and Koutarou mutters about couples that fight a lot. There are no cockroaches, but I do find Pokémon Soul Silver behind my dresser, and by the time we’re done my closet is actually clean.

We move on to Kuro’s room by common consensus, and it’s so clean it only takes us ten minutes to go through the whole thing.

“We’re done!”

“Bathrooms.”

Koutarou blanches.

We run water down every drain and – carefully – lift every toilet seat.

“Closets?”

“Closets.”

Nothing.

We collapse on the couch, all four of us sprawled across each other.

“Where’d it come from?”

“No idea, but I’m happy to think that it came from outside.”

“Time to start keeping the windows shut.”

“Do we ever keep them open?”

“Time to stop opening the doors and start phasing through them instead. If we keep the place air-tight we should be fine.”

Kuro sighs and kicks his feet for a minute before he gives up and lets them dangle over the back of the couch.

“Is it – okay, for you to lie like that?” I ask apprehensively. “It looks like it’s bad for your back.”

He’s got his feet over the back of his couch, which would be fine, but Koutarou’s spread out across the couch – feet in my lap, head in Keiji’s – so while Kuro’s butt is nearly on the couch, his back is arched over Koutarou’s stomach, and it just looks – painful.

“It’s – a heart-opening pose. Like, yoga. It’s fine.”

“You’ve never done yoga.”

“My mom has.”

“You can’t vicariously learn yoga.”

“Says who? And anyway, I’ve seen my mom do the poses often enough, she does them every morning.”

“I really don’t think that’s the same thing.

“It doesn’t _have_ to be the same thing. It just has to be _close_.”

“Can’t yoga actually really hurt you if you don’t do it right?” Koutarou chips in.

“I think I read somewhere that doing the poses wrong can cause huge back problems or muscular issues,” Keiji muses.

“Listen, I’m comfy, so why does it matter?”

“Because I don’t want you to break your back.”

He sighs at me and reaches backwards, dangling his hands just above the floor. “My back will be fine.”

“If it’s not, do I get the right to say ‘I told you so’?”

“Yes.”

“That’s all I ask.”

“You’re a reasonable man, Kenma.”

“I know.”

I scratch his stomach. He sighs contentedly. Sometimes I think he’s more like a cat than I am.

Koutarou stretches out for the remote control. “Any requests?”

He ends up channel surfing for ten minutes until he settles on a game show. It’s weird, but then, Koutarou thinks it’s hilarious, and Kuro thinks it’s nothing short of hysterical that he’s watching it upside down, so hey.

The night ends with Kuro backflipping off the couch and nearly breaking both the coffee table and his feet, but, somehow, breaking neither, in a shocking twist I could not have predicted. Koutarou laughs himself silly and has to be dragged to bed. Kuro kneels down in front of me so I can climb onto his back and gives me a piggyback ride to his – our – bed. The fact that I’m not currently wearing pajamas doesn’t strike him as a problem, so I just – strip and stay that way. He doesn’t put any on, either, to “show solidarity,” and also to drive me up a wall, but whatever. I don’t really mind being up a wall, if I’m being honest.

I fall asleep with my face in his neck, and I dream – something, I don’t understand, but – I’m safe, and I know I won’t fall.

And then, of course, I wake up, and remember that in a few hours, Kuro will leave, He’s gonna leave for a few days.

Something big and empty stretches in my heart. I tell it to shut up. He’s not leaving me, just going to see Belle. This isn’t even a worry I need to have.

I snuggle closer to him and he mumbles something, wordless, meaningless, and hugs me. I think he’s drooling. Ah well. It helps fill the gap in my chest.

I drift in and out of sleep until his alarm goes off, which gives me a heart attack, and he hauls me out of bed.

Morning practice is absolutely _the_ worst thing about volleyball. The _worst_. Hands down. The people, the noise, strange beings like Lev – all of it pales in comparison to morning practices. There are people in this world who don’t have to get up at 6 in the goddamn morning to go hit a ball around the court, and I am _jealous_.

On the other hand, no one else in this world has Kuro to make them pancakes in the morning, so. If Karma requires me to offset Kuro with early morning practices, I’ll take the damn practices. Kuro kisses my forehead when he gives me my pancakes. I tap his heart. I love him.

Also, after practice I get to go back to sleep for a little while. I’m so intensely glad I’m not a science major – Kuro’s got all those after-practice labs, and I don’t have a goddamn thing until 1 in the afternoon. Bless.

Practice is hell, because it’s in the morning.

And then I go home.

Kuro doesn’t even _try_ to take his jacket back from me. If it was mostly mine before, it’s _entirely_ mine now. It’s good. Also, I get to sleep in his bed, on a pillow that smells like him, under a blanket that smells like him –

I snuggle in deeper.

I almost wish I could go back in time, sort of. If the Kenma of a week ago knew where the Kenma of today is right now – but then again, time seems so – fragile. What if telling Past Me changed where I am right now? What if it changed for the worse? What if it changed for the better?

I sigh.

Anyway.

“Kenma?”

I’ve only been lying here for ten minutes, if Koutarou thinks I’m getting up –

“It’s 12:15. Just thought you might wanna know.”

“ _What_?”

“What, what?”

“I –” My phone agrees with him. “Time can –”

“Don’t say anything you’ll regret,” Koutarou says cheerfully. “What if Kuroo got jealous?”

I give him my best ‘what the fuck’ face. He takes it in stride, and I stumble out of bed to the sound of his cheerful chattering. _Morning people_. They disgust me.

It’s really only thanks to Koutarou that I get to class on time, though. So. Thanks, morning people. Honestly.

Class is – good. I like music class. Love. I love music class.

I should probably become a music minor.

I sigh.

I kind of hate it when Kuro’s right.

Ah well.

Doesn’t stop me from smiling when I walk out of class and see him waiting for me.

“Don’t you have a class before this?”

“Got out five minutes early. Why, disappointed?”

“About as much as you are about having to skip chem.”

“I _like_ chem.”

“Doesn’t mean you like the class.”

He wrinkles his nose at me. “Good point.”

“Also, I think I’m gonna become a music minor.”

“ _Good_. Yes. Good. You’re going to meet with that one professor you like now, anyway, right? Ask her to help you.”

“I know.”

“I know you _know_ , I just don’t know if you’ll _do_ it.”

I wrinkle my nose at him. “Good point.”

“What time’s your appointment?”

“Not for another seven minutes.”

He pulls me off the path into the shade of the building. “So you’ve got time.”

“Yeah.”

He cradles my face in his hands. “Don’t bring any cockroaches into the house. Don’t let Bo forget to take his meds. Remember to put your clothes away instead of dumping them on the floor.”

“I know.”

“Talk to your professor about becoming a music minor. Don’t put it off.”

“I will.”

He looks – anxious. About what? Not driving, not going home – “What are you nervous about?”

He wrinkles his nose. “Why are you so perceptive?”

“That’s not what you’re nervous about.”

He straightens a little and takes his hands back, glancing away at the side of the building, which I know for a fact is incredibly uninteresting. “You – you won’t – I don’t know – get over me while I’m gone? Realize that when I’m not in your face every minute of every day, you don’t love me quite so much?”

It’s so strange, how he thinks I could get over him. Like I could just – stop loving him. I tap his heart. “I’ll still be here when you get back. Don’t worry.”

He rests his forehead against mine. “I know. I know. I just – worry sometimes.”

I stretch the last couple centimeters to kiss him. “I’ll still be right here, waiting for you, keeping the whole apartment clean, folding my pajamas, et cetera.”

“You sleep in pajamas?”

“I used to.”

“As far as I knew, you just slept in my jacket.”

“Close enough.”

He kisses my nose and whispers, “I love you,” and then he walks away, towards the parking lot, and leaves me.

A void opens up inside my lungs, so sudden and painful and big I stop breathing for a minute. What if – what if _he_ gets over _me_? He spent a long time trying, what if it just – didn’t kick in right away? What if he realizes I can’t give him as much as he can give me? What if he figures out that –

“Kenma?”

I jump, but it’s just my music professor. “Hi, Professor.”

“How are you?”

I walk with her to the elevator and ignore the aching space in my chest. “Fine, how are you?”

The doors close behind us. “Was that, by any chance, the friend who helps you study?”

I flush. “Kuroo. Yeah.”

“Ah.”

We head towards her office. Kuro would want me to ask her as soon as possible. He knows I’ll chicken out.

I take a deep breath when she shuts her office door behind us. “Um. Professor. I – was considering – minoring in music?”

She smiles at me. “I think that’s wonderful. I’ll send an email or two, and there’s a form you’ve gotta fill out, but – your grades are good, and there’s no reason for them to turn you down. They’ll ask you who you’d like to be your guidance counselor, and I’ll tell you right now I’m willing to be your GC, but don’t let that stop you from picking someone else if you’d prefer. Actually, sit tight, and I’ll do it now. All right?”

I nod, and while she types away at her computer, I pull out my phone.

_One form away from being a music minor :3_

_YES!!!!_

_Don’t text and drive._

_I haven’t left yet, I’m sitting in the parking lot_

_Why??_

_I was about to text you to remind you to ask about the minor_

_Oh_

_:3_

_:3c_

“Texting Kuroo?”

I tilt my screen back. Can she see it? “I – yeah. How – how did – you know?” Is it rude to ask? Can’t be ruder than reading someone else’s texts. Then again, it’s incredibly rude for me to text during my appointment with her – I flush. I should’ve thought of that.

“I’ve only ever seen you smile when you’re talking about him, so it seemed sensible to assume that if you were smiling at your phone, you were talking to him.”

Oh. “He’s been telling me to become a music minor for – weeks now, I think. I was telling him I did it.”

She frowns. “Did he push you into becoming a music minor? It’s hard work, Kenma, and you shouldn’t do it unless you –” She cuts off when I start shaking my head.

“No, I – I love music, and he knows it. I just – didn’t have the motivation to _do_ anything about it.”

“Ah.” She extracts a form from one of her many folders and passes it to me. “If you’d like to fill it out, we can take it to the music office today.”

It sinks in, as I fill it out. I’m dedicating a good portion of my time in college to a subject I only recently learned existed, and barely decided I liked.

But –

Yeah. I like it.

I put down my professor under _preferred guidance counselor_.

She takes me down to the office to turn in the form – they’ve got coffee in there, I like them already – and we go back to her office for my tutoring session.

My phone buzzes with Kuro’s ringtone.

This – is good. It’s good. Whatever _this_ is. I think it’s good.


	14. Kuroo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meet the Moms.docx

He’s not responding. Probably busy becoming a music minor.

I back out of my parking spot and hesitate. I could stay. My mom would be sad, and I wouldn’t get to see Belle before they put her down, but – I could stay. I could stay with Kenma, instead of taking off when we only just began our relationship –

Kenma would probably kick my ass all the way home and tell me to appreciate my goddamn cat. And anyway, he was right, when he said we’ve been dating without realizing it. We just – only recently made it official. It’s hard to break up something that’s lasted so long.

I pull out of the parking lot and turn the volume up.

How long is this _really_ going to take? Not that I don’t love Belle. Not that I want anything to happen to her. But. Kenma.

What if I get back and he’s moved back into his own room? What if he tells me it was all a mistake? If he avoids my eyes and says _sorry, we should just be friends,_ I –

Then again, if all it takes to split us up is a couple days apart, it’s better to know sooner than later, right? And anyway, why I am being such a fuckin pessimist? Would it kill me to be optimistic once in a while? Like, a week ago, I was absolutely convinced Kenma was totally in love with Hinata, and today, I kissed him and he told me he loved me. And he didn’t even make fun of me for my anxious nitpicking. So. Fuck off, Past Kuroo. Don’t be a jackass, Present Kuroo. Don’t fuck things up, Future Kuroo. Jesus Christ.

I turn up the volume and make it home alive, which I consider an achievement.

_I’m officially a music minor :3c_

I punch the air. _Good!!! Did you get your prof to be your guidance counselor?_

I grab my bag and hop out of the car.

“Tetsurou?”

“Hi, mom. How’s Belle?”

I meet her at the door and she hugs me. “She’s been acting strange all night, we’ve got an appointment with the vet tomorrow. Come in, why are we standing out here?”

“You’re blocking the door.”

“Hush.”

A little golden blur whirrs out of sight as soon as I walk through the door. “Is that…?”

“The kitten? That was her.”

“What’s her name?”

“I haven’t named her yet. How can I name her when I’m too busy worrying about Belle?”

“Where’s Belle?”

“Lord, I don’t even know. Belle? Belle! Tetsurou’s back!”

“She doesn’t even really _like_ me.”

“She loves you.”

She doesn’t like me. She met me when I was seven and hasn’t liked me since. I pulled her tail. That was the end of our relationship. She _loves_ Kenma, though. I should’ve brought him with me.

It feels like there’s too much air around me – Kenma should be taking up space next to me, he should be in my air, I’ve never felt right when he wasn’t next to me.

But also, I should’ve brought him for Belle’s sake. Definitely. I’m not just selfish. I’m worried about Belle.

We find Belle in my room.

“Yeah, there’s something wrong with her.”

“I know, she never goes in your room.”

“Hi, Belle, hi, pretty girl, do you like m – ow! Okay, okay, backing up, backing up, that was _unnecessary_.” I study the long scratch on my forearm. It’s not bleeding, at least. Jeez. She could’ve killed me, if she’d scratched deep enough. “She hates me.”

“All right, all right, she does, but that doesn’t mean much, she hates most people. It’s not her fault.”

“Where’s the kitten?”

“Who knows? Not in here.”

I go on the hunt and find the little ball of gold in the bathroom, behind the toilet. “Hi, kitty, hi, pretty baby, do _you_ like me more than Belle does?”

She hisses at me.

Well.

I take a seat on the floor, rest my hands on the tile, stare at the wall, and wait. I’ll take my chances with her. I’ve never pulled her tail.

She takes her time, but she comes out, moves towards me. I feel whiskers brush my hand.

I’m willing to bet my college degree that my mom never bothered getting her settled in or comfortable, not with Belle getting sick.

“Hi, kitty,” I murmur, and she dashes right back behind the toilet. “Are you nervous?”

She doesn’t run, just stays squashed behind the pipes. Lucky she’s little. “I know you don’t have a name, so how about I call you Kitty? Just for now. My mom’ll give you a different name soon, I promise. How about it?” She doesn’t answer, but she’s looking at me, and not running. “I have a –” I stop, listen, wait – nothing, mom’s not out there. “boyfriend. His name is Kenma Kozume. You’d like him. _He’d_ like _you_. He’s seen a picture of you. I think he _already_ likes you, honestly. I call him kitten, too, sometimes. So we’ll have to get you a different name, or things’ll get confusing, right?” She’s not behind the toilet anymore. Looks like she’s about to pounce. I leave my hand right where it is. “He became a music minor today. I’ve been telling him to do it for a while. He really loves it, which is weird, because he showed literally no interest in music up until, like, last year. But hey, as long as he’s happy, y’know?” She’s sniffing my hand again. “I live with him, and it’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I’ve got another roommate, too, his name is Bokuto Koutarou, he’s pretty cool. I think – maybe you wouldn’t like him. He’s loud. And obnoxious. Really nice, though. I know he’d like you.”

She jumps into my lap.

I feel incredibly accomplished.

“So those are my roommates. But, honestly, I might have another one, soon. His name is Akaashi Keiji. You’d probably like him, he’s quiet, too, like Kenma. I don’t know if he likes cats, but he’d probably like you anyway. I think it’s probably hard to not like you.”

She stares up at me.

I move my hand, slowly, making sure she sees it, talking the whole time. “There’s Tsukishima Kei, too, he’s – a bit of a jackass, but he’s gotten nicer. And he’s got good taste in music. He’d put up with you. If you catch him when no one’s watching, he’d probably love you. And he’s got a boyfriend, Yamaguchi Tadashi, who would _absolutely_ love you, and he’d probably be patient enough to make you like him, too.” She sniffs at my hand, but doesn’t run away. “Hinata Shoyo is Kenma’s friend. He’s always excited about something, and his hair is orange. He’s got a boyfriend, too, Kageyama Tobio. He’s cool. I don’t know him all that well. Also, I’m starting to realize something. Do I know _anyone_ who isn’t gay?” She jumps when I touch her head, but stays put. I stay still and wait for her to relax. “I guess there must be a couple guys on my volleyball team, but the only people on there I’m actually friends with are gay as all shit.” What else is there to talk about? Should I introduce myself? “I’m Kuroo Tetsurou, by the way. Kenma calls me Kuro.”

My brain stalls out. Why is there literally nothing going on in my life? You’d think I’d have _something_ to talk about, other than the people in it. I must be doing _something_ in my spare time. “How much do you know about biology?” How much do _I_ know about biology? “Nevermind. What about chemistry?” Nope, got nothing there, either. “What if I just read to you from a dictionary?” She lets me pet her. She’s _soft_. “Oh my _god_ , Kenma would love you. How about I tell you about Kenma?” Oh my god, is she purring? “I’ve been friends with Kenma since we were little. _Really_ little. That’s a lie. I was, what, ten? So he was nine? Little enough. I’ve been friends with him for more than half my life, and he’s been my best friend the whole time. He just – like, okay, the other day, I was –”

“Tetsurou?”

I yelp as the kitty uses me as a springboard to get back behind the toilet. “Shi – ffffffffff – _ow_. How did that _not_ rip my pants?”

My mom shrugs. “I’m just impressed that you managed to get her near you at all.”

“Didn’t last long.”

I move to get up, but she waves me back down. “No, no, stay there, see if you can get her out again. I haven’t been paying her much attention.”

I settle back in. “All right.” And then – “Wait – mom –”

She steps back into the doorway.

“Can you teach me how to make apple pie?”

“Apple pie? Why do y – yeah, all right, but I’ll warn you, I’ve only made it once and I’m not very good at it.”

Why didn’t she finish her question? “That’s fine, I’ve never made it before, so you’ve still got more experience than I do.”

“We can make it when you get her out of there.”

“Okay.”

She smiles at me and walks away.

Right.

“Hey, pretty kitty, what should I tell you about now?”

I don’t have to tell her about anything. She comes out all on her own, hopping into my lap and curling up.

“Did I already gain your trust? That was – easy. Can I pick you up? Will you let me do that?” I slide a hand under her little body and she doesn’t protest, so I try – and – she digs her claws into my hands.

I freeze.

She doesn’t try to escape.

She withdraws her claws, and I transfer her to my shoulder, whispering _“pretty kitty, pretty kitty.”_ She lets me stand up with her. I walk out of the bathroom with her. “Mom.” I keep my voice at a normal volume. “Look.”

She comes out of the kitchen, sees the kitten, and gasps. “Oh! You got –”

The kitten dives off my shoulder.

“She doesn’t like me,” my mom says mournfully.

“I’m gonna have to agree.”

“So. Apple pie?”

“Do we have everything?”

“I called in a favor for the apples, but we can make the crust while we’re waiting.”

“How’d you have time to call in a favor? Who has that many apples sitting around?”

She waves her hand at me. “A mother never tells her secrets. Now. Crust?”

I follow her into the kitchen.

“First rule of most baking is that dry ingredients get mixed together first –”

“I know that, actually.”

“Really? Who taught you?”

“Bokuto. I made him teach me how to make pancakes.”

“Really? Hmm. Did he teach you well? Does Kozume like them?”

“Yes, and yes.”

“Very good.”

She makes me do all the work – “It’s different, when you do it yourself” – so when the knock on the door comes, she can open it without having to wash her hands.

When our Mystery Apple Supplier comes in, it’s Kenma’s mom.

“Tetsurou! How are you? How’s Kozume?”

“We’re both fine, how are you?”

“Good, that’s good, I’m fine. I’ll start peeling these apples, you go ahead and – oh! Is that the kitty?”

I turn in time to see the tip of her tail go around the corner.

“Skittish, isn’t she?”

“She doesn’t like sudden noises. Or movements.”

“You’ll have to get her used to those. What’s her name?”

“She doesn’t have one yet.”

“Ah. Well. As I was saying. I’ll start peeling these apples while you finish this crust.”

“All right.”

I turn back to the crust, and she settles in at our table, pulling the garbage can close so she can peel right into the bag.

“What sparked your decision to learn how to make apple pie?” She asks casually.

I go as tense as a wooden board. “Uh. I’ve just been learning to bake stuff recently, so I thought I might as well learn to make pie.” That’s absolutely, unquestionably, the _worst_ explanation I could’ve spewed.

“What led you to _apple pie_ , though? There must be more basic things to start with.”

“Well, I didn’t really start with it, I started with pancakes, which are plenty basic. I just – decided it was time to go more – complex.”

“Oh? What else did you learn to make?”

“Um – nothing.”

“You went right from pancakes to apple pie?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

I shrug. Why does she need to know? Can’t she just do what my mom did, and drop it? I don’t even think Kenma’s out to her. I can’t _tell_ her – I can’t out Kenma.

“Tetsurou, Kozume is gay, isn’t he.”

I freeze.

 _Don’t out Kenma_.

I shrug. “Not something he really talks to me about.”

I hear twin sighs from behind me.

“It’s like taking the core from a tree without removing the bark,” my mom says. I can practically _see_ her shaking her head. “Tetsurou, it took _years_ for me to convince you to learn to make tea. _Tea_. And now you’re making apple pie? Kozume’s favorite food? It’s not hard to connect the dots.”

I shouldn’t have asked her. I should’ve just waited for Bokuto to teach me. Or taught my goddamn self, would that’ve been so fucking hard?

I shove that aside. I’ll deal with regret later. “What dots?” Am I bordering on insolence? Probably. Do I care? Not right now, I’ll deal with that later too.

“Tetsurou. I love you. I love Kozume. We _both_ love _both_ of you, and would be very happy if you two were – happy together. If that’s not what’s going on, well, then that’s not what’s going on, but if it is – we’re happy for you. Please tell us.”

Oh.

That – changes things, I guess.

I stop punching the dough into the shape of the pie mold.

“Um. That’s – that’s what’s going on.”

Silence.

Oh, god.

I peek over my shoulder and both of them are staring at me. They’re both raising their eyebrows. Waiting.

“For, um, a week?”

More silence.

They’re leaning towards me now.

“That’s – why I’m learning how to make apple pie. It’s also why I learned to make pancakes, incidentally. ‘Cause Kenma likes them.”

“Good. Well, I think that crust is done now, don’t you? Stick it in the freezer and come help us peel apples, your mother’s got arthritis and I’m getting old.”

I cover the crust and stick it in the freezer and wash my hands and join them at the table and pick up my mom’s apple peeler and start peeling apples next to two middle-aged women who now know that not only am I gay but so is Kenma and we are _dating_ and Kenma’s not even really gay, I mean, he’s homoromantic, but he’s demisexual, is this me lying to our moms?

Then again, I was _completely_ willing to lie when I thought the truth might get Kenma into trouble, so. Maybe I should calm down.

“How’s Koutarou?” My mom asks.

“He’s good.”

“And – his – ah – friend? Akaashi?”

“He’s fine, too.”

“Are they – are they also – happy together?”

“They are also happy together.”

“Ah. Very good.”

I peel an entire apple in silence. If they want more, they’ll have to ask. They can say they’re okay with it as much as they want, but until they say the word _gay_ I won’t believe them.

But they’re not asking more, and I’m still peeling, and this is – a lot of apples, like, a whole bunch, to just have on hand, sitting around, for no reason, ready to be brought to someone else’s house for someone else’s apple pie.

Okay. All right. I get it. Well, not really, but – I was willing to put up with it from Bokuto, ‘cause Bo’s a bit of an idiot, and because he didn’t exactly spare himself, either – he went ahead and asked Akaashi out, he put himself on the line, too. But this – jesus. “How long have you been planning this? Or, well, how long have you known?

My mother suddenly becomes very, very interested in the apple she’s chopping. Kenma’s mom nearly cuts herself with the apple peeler.

“What are you talking about, honey?”

“Actually, how’d you know I’d want to make apple pie? Did Bokuto call ahead?”

“We didn’t know, how could we have known?”

“Sorry, mom, but this is a pretty obvious setup. I could’ve just gone out and gotten the apples myself, it wouldn’t have taken long.”

She sighs. “Well, we’ve been waiting. Really, all I had to say was _he wants to learn how to make apple pie_ , and Noriko said _I’ll pick up apples on my way over_.”

“You’ve been – waiting?”

“You and Kozume weren’t exactly _subtle_ , sweetheart.”

“We –”

“Don’t stop peeling, this takes long enough as it is. Well. I guess you want the whole story?”

I nod.

“Well, like I said, you and Kozume weren’t subtle. It was fairly obvious that the two of you had crushes on each other. I ignored it and hoped it would go away, but when you hit high school and it hadn’t gone anywhere, I went to Noriko, apologized, and asked if she’d noticed.”

“You – apologized?”

They ignore me, and Kenma’s mom picks up the story like I hadn’t said a word. I should’ve known better than to interrupt, I guess.

“It was a bit of a relief, honestly,” she says, digging out a brown spot in the apple she’s holding. “Kozume was – a difficult boy to raise. I didn’t know what to do for him, how to help him, get him to talk to people, go outside, but then you came along –” she reaches over and pats my head with the back of her hand, trying to keep apple juice out of my hair – “and you changed everything for him. It was – a relief, really, to think that the two of you might – stick together. Of course, then the two of you spent several years not doing anything about it, which worried me. But I’m happy – I think we’re _both_ happy, that you and Kozume are taking care of each other.” She smiles at me.

“So – that was it? You weren’t – disappointed?” She still won’t say _gay_. She’ll say _the two of you might stick together._ Or _you’re taking care of each other_. But not _gay._ Or _you like each other_.

My mom sighs. “Well, at first I was, because I was hoping for a daughter-in-law. But a daughter-in-law who doesn’t make my son happy isn’t much of a daughter-in-law, and you can take care of me in my old age just as well as anyone else, I’m sure. And I’ll die eventually, but you’ll probably have to live with whoever you marry for the rest of your life, so – I got used to it.” She smiles at me. “So now we’re making apple pie, and when you go back to your apartment, you’ll be able to make Kozume the best apple pie he’s ever had.”

“Oh.”

She pats my arm. I resign myself to getting apple juice on every pat-able part of my body. Every part that can be patted? I’ll have to ask Akaashi. I’m a science guy, not a linguist.

We finish peeling, and I take the knife from my mom and start chopping.

I guess I should text Kenma.

Not that I can do it now, not while my hands are covered in apple juice, but later. Maybe I’ll call him. I’ll text first and see if he’s up for a phone call. It would be nice to hear his voice, though.

Of course, it’s only been around four hours since I saw him last, anyway. And it’s not like I haven’t gone _longer_ without hearing his voice – hell, he’s gone entire days without saying a damn thing – but it’s different, when he’s with me, next to me. Then it doesn’t matter if he speaks or not, it’s nice to just – have him there.

“Thinking about Kozume?”

I jump and nearly cut off my finger. “I – what?”

“You smile when you think about him,” my mother says offhandedly. “And you were smiling. So I assumed. But if I was wrong, well, a mother can’t be right all the time.”

“I – no, you were right.” This is worrying. If I blush any hotter, I’ll cook the apples before they even get in the crust.

“It’s all right. Kozume does the same thing.”

“Oh.” Suddenly, I understand Kenma’s insistence on sticking his face in whatever’s closest whenever he gets embarrassed.

“Please don’t put your face in the apples, we need those.”

“Right.”

She takes mercy on me, and neither she nor Kenma’s mom brings up Kenma again. I make it through the rest of the pie-making, and when it comes out of the oven and we’ve all had a slice and exchanged compliments, Kenma’s mom leaves with nothing more than a plea to make Kenma call her more often.

“Tetsurou, I don’t – I – I need to ask this,” my mom begins once Kenma’s mom is safely out of the house.

“Oh, no, you don’t.”

“You don’t even know what I’m going to ask!”

“If you’re justifying it before you even ask it, you don’t need to ask it.”

“Tetsurou, _please_ tell me you and Kozume are – using protection.”

“ _Mom!_ ”

“It’s a yes or no question, Tetsurou, _please_ just – answer –”

“ _Yes,_ mom, _Jesus_ , I’m gonna go sit in the bathroom with the kitty, oh _god_.”

She lets me go, and with the kitten curled up in my lap and the bathroom door shut and locked, I get to pull out my phone for the first time in three hours.

_Kuro I need you to come back NOW Koutarou made a knife spear_

Two minutes later, he sent a picture: himself, making a peace sign, while in the background Bo holds up a long, _long_ spear, made of knives tied to what looks like the pole from our living room lamp.

_BRO. BRO LOOK AT THIS. LOOK AT THE SPEAR I MADE_

Bo, taking a selfie in the bathroom mirror, with his knife-spear.

_Bro, why?_

I switch to Kenma’s conversation.

_I’m so sorry I’ll be home in a couple days you just have to survive also I’ve got something goodish to tell you so call me maybe?_

Bokuto responds first: _bro you’re like 90% of my impulse control but look it’s so cool_

_Dude you gotta think about Kenma he doesn’t wanna live with the knife spear_

_True bro but listen I could stab one person really hard_

_Yeah that’s why Kenma doesn’t wanna live with the knife spear_

_Oh. I guess that makes sense_

Kenma calls before I can text back.

“What does _goodish_ mean?”

“It means both our moms know we’re gay and dating. It’s okay, though, they’re both okay with it, they apparently figured shit out _way_ before we did and were disappointed that we took so long to get together. I didn’t even _tell_ them, they just _knew_. And your mom wants you to call her more often.”

“They – they – oh my _god_.” I hear a _thunk_ as he sits down. “When – how – Kuro, I _hate_ you.”

“It’s not _my_ fault!”

“ _Kuro_!”

“They figured it out when we were kids, and ignored it until we hit high school and they decided the gay wasn’t gonna go away, and have been waiting around for _us_ to figure it out ever since. Your mom’s pretty much overjoyed, she’s relieved that we will – and I quote – _stick together_ , because neither of them would use the word _gay_ , so I mean, take that as you will, but – other than that – we’re good.”

“How did they _know_?”

“Well, apparently I smile when I think about you, and vice versa, so I guess that might’ve given it away? Other than that, I don’t know, _I_ sure as hell wasn’t picking up on it from you.”

“I mean, _you’re_ as gay as a rainbow, but I’m not even really technically _gay_ , what is this bullshit?”

“You’ll have to explain that one to her, she’s not even up for the word ‘gay’ yet, I can’t imagine how hard it’ll be to tell her about ‘demisexual.’”

“I don’t even _want_ to talk to her about my sexual preferences. At _all_. I wasn’t even really planning on coming out. I was just sorta assuming she’d be too unwilling to ask questions to make a big deal about me living with you and not getting married, I didn’t even _consider_ – I honestly wasn’t even worried about it, I didn’t even think about it, the idea of coming out never crossed my mind, and you’re telling me she’s known for _years_? _And_ I’ve gotta figure out how to explain my sexuality to her?”

I grin. I can’t help it. When was the last time Kenma _ranted_? “Well, she wants you to call her more often anyway, may as well start now. Then you won’t have time to worry.”

He huffs. “That’s not helpful.”

“My mom just asked me if we use protection. It’s your turn to suffer.”

“Love is a lie.”

I snigger.

We sit there in silence for a moment. It feels – right. I can hear the faint sound of his breath, next to my ear, a little closer than it usually is but still, it’s where he usually is, near me, constant and _good_.

I stroke the kitty. She purrs.

“I’m gonna have to send you pictures of the kitten,” I tell Kenma. “She’s so cute.”

“Is she as blurry as she looks in the pictures your mom sent?”

“No – hold on a sec.”

Seconds later, he’s squealing in my ear – “ _oh my god_ , Kuro, she’s beautiful, she’s perfect, I love her, _look_ at her, is she as soft as she looks?” – and I love him, I love him a lot.

Eventually, though, he quiets down, and – “When are you coming home?”

“In a couple days, I think. Unless – something bad actually happens. I don’t wanna miss too much school or practice. And I miss you.”

“Sap,” he says, but I know him too well, I know when his words are fillers, and that was one of them.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Kuro.”

“We’re fucking _weak_ , it hasn’t even been half a day.”

“Time is a human construct.”

“I like that. Makes us sound better than we are.”

“We _are_ better than we are.”

“That made sense.”

“I _know_.”

I laugh, and he’s quiet for a minute, and then – “Kuro?”

“Yeah?”

“I didn’t join the volleyball team because I liked it. Or because I thought I was good at it. Or because I thought I could help the team. I joined ‘cause you wanted me to. I don’t regret it – I kind of like it, now. But – I mostly joined so I could spend more time with you. I’m gonna call my mom now.”

“Love you, Kenma. Go be a good son. And text me when you’re done.”

“Love you too. I will.”

After he hangs up, I talk to the kitty for a little while. She’s a good listener. And then I text Bo.

_Bro I need you to do me a favor_

_Sure dude, what do you need?_

_I’m gonna order something and address it to you. If I’m not home before it gets there, I need you to stick it in your room. Preferably, Kenma would never find out that a box arrived at all, but if he asks what’s in it, you say it’s personal. Wiggle your eyebrows if you gotta._

_Is it something illegal_

_No_

_Is it crabs_

_Why would it be crabs_

_Why wouldn’t it be crabs_

_Good point, but they’d smell after a while_

_Unless they were alive_

_It would be hard to keep them alive in an unopened box_

_Oh am I not opening this box_

_No_

_Oh_

_Sorry dude it’s personal_

_Are you wiggling your eyebrows_

_Yup_

_Ok I don’t wanna know_

_Nope_

_Ok bye I’m gonna go find Akaashi and pretend this conversation never happened_

_Cool bye have fun be safe_

I place my order. Should I overnight ship it? Nah. I’ll go for two-day. It’s cheaper.

Kenma calls me within seconds of me hitting _place order_ and for a second, I think _he knows_.

“It went over like a balloon.”

“Really well?”

“Yup. She’s informed me she’ll be overjoyed to have you as a son-in-law, and she’s very happy I haven’t considered anyone else, because she’s really not sure if there’s anyone else in this world who either deserves me or can, ahem, ‘take care of’ me. I’m not sure if she’s actually accepting-slash-understanding demisexuality or if she’s just happy I’m limiting my gay to someone she knows, but I’m pretending she’s understanding.”

“Well, at least she likes me.”

“I think she likes you more than she likes me.”

“She’s not asking _me_ to call her more often.”

“I wish she _would_. If I have to suffer, you have to suffer.”

“I have my own mom to call.”

“Your mom’s cool. She likes cats, so I like her.”

“Would you be able to be friends with someone who didn’t like cats?”

“I wouldn’t even be able to share the _planet_ with them.”

“Are you leaving or are they? If you’re going, tell me ahead of time, I need to pack.”

“This is the only planet that has cats, I’m staying.”

“Good point, I can’t believe I didn’t think about that. What if we brought cats to a different planet and helped them live there? We could have a cat planet.”

“I like the way you think. How much science would it take to introduce cats to a new planet?”

“Mm. Depends. Venus’s atmosphere is pretty much just like Earth’s, but we’d have to build, like, a floating city in the atmosphere, so we wouldn’t really get the whole planet. If we’re willing to genetically engineer us some kitties for life in other atmospheres, it would take a whole lot.”

“How much is a whole lot?”

“Like, ten.”

“Ten… science?”

“Exactly.”

“That’s not a reasonable answer.”

“I guess, if we scrap the plans for the third eyes and the extra tail, we could bring it down to nine.”

“Nice. Let’s go with that.”

“I’ll get started tomorrow.”

“I’ll call the space people.”

“The space people or the _space people_?”

“Both?”

“Both.”

“Both is good. I’ll call both.”

“Sounds g –”

“ _Kuroo Tetsurou I did not raise you to hog the bathroom for –”_

“Oh god sorry mom sorry I’m leaving now, I’m –” I grab the kitten and take her with me as I run out of the bathroom, narrowly avoiding my mom’s hand as she tries to whack me before shutting the door behind her.

I try to juggle the phone and the kitten, drop the phone, reflexively drop the kitten as she stabs me with tiny claws, get smacked by Belle as she comes flying out of my room, and make it into bed two minutes later. “Kenma? You still there?”

“Yup. Did your mom kill you? Why were you in the bathroom?”

“She tried, but she had to pee. The kitten likes to stay in there.”

“Oooooo _oooooh the kitten –_ ohh, the kitten, okay, that makes sense, I’d stay in there too. What a cute kitten. Is she still in the bathroom?”

“Nope. I have _no_ idea where she is. She doesn’t like my mom, and she’s not a huge fan of being outside the bathroom, and when I took her out of the bathroom and my mom was screeching she took off.”

“That’s – okay, I know I can’t comment on how other people raise cats, but, that’s, probably not a good thing.”

“I know. I just – I don’t know. Hopefully this thing with Belle will be all right, and then my mom can focus on the kitty.”

“And give her a name.”

“And give her a name, yeah.”

Kenma sighs. “Kuro?”

“Yeah?”

“I – I’m gonna go to bed, but will you stay on the phone? It – I – I got – used to you. Being here.”

I can hear the sizzle as my heart melts. “Yeah. I’m not used to sleeping without you anymore, either.”

And if I close my eyes, it’s kinda like he’s there, but not really. It’s close enough. I should be fine with that. I’ve only been sleeping with him for, what, a week? Ish?

Still, I don’t sleep too well. I feel – alone.

And when I wake up, my phone’s dead, and I’m a fucking idiot ‘cause I didn’t stick it on the charger before I went to sleep, so my alarm didn’t go off, and my mom’s annoyed that I nearly made us late to the appointment with the vet, but hey, we get there on time, even _with_ Belle trying to claw my eyes out, so. Hey.

The vet is nice, for the three seconds in which I’m actually talking to her. The other thirty minutes are spent alone in the waiting room, phoneless, because I left it at home to charge.

Thirty long minutes.

Thirty. Looooooooong minutes.

I hope Kenma’s having a good morning.

Thirty minutes is a long time.

Did Bo ever take apart his knife-spear?

I nearly jump out of my skin when my mom comes out, after thirty minutes, cat-less and anxious.

“The vet’s going to keep her overnight. She’s worried about –” she lowers her voice – “ _cancer_.”

My stomach drops. “Oh, no, poor Belle.”

I drive us home.

My mom wanders around the house all day, picking fur out of furniture and off her clothes. I don’t bug her. Instead, I work on the kitty, on coaxing her out of the bathroom, and getting her used to being outside the bathroom even if I’m not holding her. By the end of the day, she’s following me around, like a weird golden shadow. It actually makes my mom smile, watching the kitty skitter around the house, pouncing on my heels, so that’s good.

I text Kenma until he calls me, and then I wander around with the phone on speaker in my pocket. It’s good. “This is like having a mobile Kenma.”

“I _am_ mobile. I can move.”

“Sometimes I wonder.”

“Don’t wonder too hard, you’ll hurt yourself.”

When I fall asleep – with the phone plugged in – the cat curls up on my feet.

She’s gone when I wake up, of course, back in the bathroom, but it doesn’t take too long for me to get her out again – she’s used to me, I think. And then my mom comes out, and the kitty goes _right_ back into hiding. _Riiiiiiight_ back into the bathroom.

“She doesn’t like me,” my mom says unhappily.

“Mm. I don’t know. Maybe she just hasn’t had enough time to get used to you,” I offer.

“She’s had more time to get used to me than she has to you.”

“I – yeah, I guess.”

She sniffs mournfully. “Maybe it would be better if you took her.”

“If I –? Mom, I live in an apartment. With roommates. And if – Belle – you might want the kitten, anyway.”

“The day Kozume doesn’t want a cat will be the day the world ends.”

“Mom, it’s _your cat_.”

“I know. I’ll keep her. It’s not like Belle wasn’t difficult, in the beginning. I should’ve started earlier, but – I can handle her.”

“She’ll come around.”

_My mom wanted to give us the kitten, maybe I should take /her/ to the doctor_

_She wants to give us the kitten????????_

_I know, right? I convinced her to keep it, obvi, if anything happens to Belle she’ll want her_

_YOU SAID NO????????_

_You wanted it???_

_HAVE I EVER NOT WANTED A KITTEN_

_Point taken_

_> :(_

_< 3 ?_

_…………… <3 I guess you were right, we wouldn’t wanna take the kitty from her_

_:D_

_don’t gimme that_

“Talking to Kozume?”

I drop my phone. “Shit. Yeah, why? What, am I smiling again?”

“Yes. It’s sweet. Don’t curse.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

“Would you mind driving us to the vet? And – coming into the room with me? Just in case?”

“No problem, mom.”

She taps her foot the whole way to the vet.

I hope Belle doesn’t need to be put down. She hates me, but she’s a good cat, other than that. And my mom loves her. And she never _actually_ hurt me. Except for when she scratched me on the back of my calf and the scar didn’t go away for three years. Or when she bit my hand. But she’s a good cat and my mom loves her.

The vet makes us wait a few minutes before she’s ready for us, but it feels like longer – my mom’s tapping her foot, jiggling her knee, and it’s _weird_ to see her stressed out so visibly.

 _Come on, Belle, pull through._ I start aiming good thoughts towards the cat, wherever she happens to be at the moment. Is there a god or three I can ask for help?

My mom nearly runs into the room, when the vet opens the door. She smiles at us and waits until we’ve sat down and Belle is curled up in my mom’s lap before she speaks.

“Good news is, I can’t find anything wrong with her, and her abnormal behavior stopped almost immediately. However, that means that whatever’s causing her strange behavior is actually in your house, and it might be difficult to figure out what, precisely, is causing it. Are you having work done on your house? Or around your house, that might do it, too. Any new loud noises? New food, maybe? Something Belle wouldn’t like?”

My mom frowns.

My stomach sinks.

“Like – for instance – a new kitten?”

“Ah.” The vet nods. “That would do it – if she’s jealous of the attention you’re giving the new cat, or if she doesn’t like having another cat in her space, or if she just doesn’t like the cat – but in that case, it’s a behavioral issue, not a medical one.”

“Is there anything we can do about it?”

“Reintroduce the cats to each other, but that can be dangerous for the kitten, if it’s small. Retraining Belle, perhaps – to deal with less attention, or to get used to sharing her space – but that’s difficult and she might be bite-y for a while. You could just wait it out. Or you could give the kitten to someone else, which is always hard in and of itself.”

My mom hasn’t stopped frowning.

This is – worrisome.

She thanks the vet, gently sticks Belle in the cat carrier, pays the bill, and drives home, face pensive. I almost wanna tell her to pull over – she’s a distracted driver, it can’t be safe. But if I interrupt her, she’ll probably yell at me. I stick my fingers into the cat carrier and listen to Belle hiss at them instead. Kenma texts me – _I’ve got a boss to beat and I intend to beat it, wish me luck –_ and I text him back – _good luck!!!!!!!!! <3 –_ and realize that that means no more texts for the rest of the day.

My stomach drops. He’s willing to give up talking to me for a whole day? Does he not miss me as much as I miss him?

Then again, maybe I should stop assuming that he doesn’t miss me just because he wants to play video games.

Not that my stomach has ever listened to logic, but hey. My brain does, and that’s good enough.

“When are you going home?” My mom asks absentmindedly as she pulls into the driveway.

“Tonight? I don’t wanna miss more school or volleyball practices if I don’t have to.”

She nods.

We get inside and release Belle and my mom’s on the phone, calling friends. She starts out asking for advice – what do you do with two cats that don’t like each other? I can tell the advice isn’t good – she starts looking desperate after the third phone call. And then she starts asking if anyone wants a kitten, a little skittish but probably fine after a little effort, she’s already making progress now that Tetsurou’s put some time in – but she keeps calling people, and it doesn’t look promising.

I sit on the floor with the kitten. She thinks my fingers are toys, which is pretty cute. When her bite hurts, I yelp, and she tumbles away and comes back to apologize. She’s a good cat. “What’s your name?” I ask her. “Any preferences?”

She ignores me entirely.

“Tetsurou?”

“Yeah?” I scoop up the kitty and hold her to my chest.

“No one’s given me any good advice. Most of them say to just put up with it until – the older cat dies. I don’t want the rest of Belle’s life to be like that!”

“And no one was willing to take her?”

She shakes her head. “She’ll just have to – go. Back to the pet store.”

We stare at each other. Her lip quivers.

We settle everything quickly enough – I’ve gotta leave soon, if I wanna get back to the apartment tonight. I figure out what I’m taking and what I’ll need, and my mom runs out to get it for me, what a wonderful woman she is.

She takes a long time, though. I watch the sky darken and calculate arrival times like my life depends on getting back to the apartment as soon as possible – I miss Kenma. The more I think about it – about how he should be next to me, how I should be next to him – the more it hurts, a physical ache I can’t get rid of, because what if he doesn’t want to be next to me anymore?

When my mom gets back, she smiles at me. “Don’t attack Kozume unless he attacks you.”

My voice rises three octaves when I shriek, “What does _that_ mean?” What does she _think_ I’m gonna do, whip out my dick the moment I see him?

“You’re getting antsy. Whenever you get antsy about missing someone, you end up latching onto them and not letting go. Remember when you were little? You’d get home after school and I wouldn’t be able to detach you from my leg.” She smiles nostalgically. “You used to do the same thing to Kozume, I think. When he’d go away for the weekend?”

“Oh.” I need to calm down.

“And – Tetsurou, _promise_ me you’ll use protection!”

“I will, I will, oh god, I’m gonna go now, good _lord_ , mom!”

She helps me load up the car, though, which really only prolongs the amount of time it takes me to leave, but, ah well. She’s had a rough few days.

She pulls me in for a hug before I get into the car. “Bring Kozume down for dinner.”

“I will.”

“I’ll make apple pie.”

“I’ll tell him that.”

“It won’t matter. You’ll have to drag him down.”

“I know.”

She waves at me as I back out of the driveway, a dark silhouette against the light spilling from the house.

I go the speed limit the whole way there – I don’t want anything in the car to move around. Of course, that also means it takes me a long-ass time to get back, but – I – I’m nervous. What if he’s not waiting for me?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> only one chapter left holy shit


	15. Kenma

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [x](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K4A8e14WLOw)

I beat the boss.

I beat the boss and no one’s here to celebrate with me.

That’s a lie. Koutarou’s here, I just don’t want to celebrate with him. I want to celebrate with Kuro.

He didn’t even text me to tell me how Belle was doing, though. What if something’s really wrong with her? Would it be – awkward if I texted him and was happy while he was busy dealing with Belle being put to sleep? He’d text me if something was wrong, though, right? He’d – he’d want me to comfort him, right? He always came right to me if something was wrong, always, but maybe – if – if he doesn’t love me as much as I think he does – I mean, there must be a reason why I never picked up on it. What if the reason was that it didn’t exist?

I stand up.

I think that was involuntary. I’ve never managed to stand up that fast in my life. My vision turns fuzzy for a second.

I put my controller down and turn off the TV.

“Night, Koutarou,” I call.

A second later, he peeks his head out of his room. “Good night? You’re going to bed?”

“Yup.”

“It’s, like, ten o’clock.”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“’Cause I can.”

“Mm. That’s bullshit, you always can.”

“Didn’t ask you to call me on it, Koutarou.”

“You sound like Kuroo.” He sighs. “It’s too quiet without him here.”

“You had Keiji over last night.”

“Still.”

“Yeah. I know.”

He narrows his eyes at me. I glance away. I don’t know what he’s looking for and I don’t wanna know what he’s finding, but all that’s inside me right now is confusion and longing and empty aching because it’s been a long time since I went a whole day without talking to Kuro and I don’t like it.

“What’s up?”

I – I guess – talking to Koutarou wouldn’t hurt. “How did you ask Keiji out?”

He takes a couple steps out of his doorway and leans against the wall, grinning, ducking his head, so, so, _so_ obviously in love, it would be impossible to miss. And Keiji didn’t miss it – he knew, he could see it, being in love didn’t stop him from seeing that Koutarou was in love with him, not when it was so obvious.

“It’s kinda stupid,” he warns me, but he’s still grinning, so it can’t be as stupid as he thinks it is. “Kuro had literally just been telling me, like, the night before, that Akaashi was in love with me, you know? And – like, I wanted to do it for real, I wanted it to be serious, I wanted him to know I meant it, I wanted to, like, take him aside, maybe not get down on one knee but pretty damn close, tell him, Akaashi, I’ve been in love with you for years, if you don’t love me as much as I love you that’s cool, but will you go out with me? You know, something that made it clear that I was ready to take it at his pace, that I was serious about this, that I wasn’t just in a mood that would pass.”

“But it didn’t happen like that?”

His eyes go all soft – it’s the same thing, it’s what Kuro does when he looks at me, that’s it, that’s it, right there. “I mean, I was sitting next to him, and – he laughed. And, like, I love his smile, so much, but his laugh – he was beautiful, so beautiful, and I was unprepared! I know he’s beautiful, but that was something else, and I just – kinda – blurted it out, Akaashi I love you, and for a second I thought I fucked up, ‘cause saying it spur-of-the-moment makes it sound temporary, but he was really happy, he kissed me. So, actually, I didn’t ask him out at all, I just blurted out my love for him in a public place. Why?”

I glance away. I don’t wanna make eye contact. “Um. Kuro – didn’t do it like that. He looked like – he’d thought it through, but like he didn’t wanna say it, and he wouldn’t look at me, and after he said it, he looked like he’d made a mistake.”

Koutarou eases onto the arm of one of our armchairs. “So, you’re asking if Kuroo only asked you out because I’d been pushing him? And you think he regrets it?”

“I – not because you’d been pushing him, maybe, it’s not your fault, but – I don’t know. It’s stupid.”

“Kenma, sit down.”

I give him a look, but he stares me down. I collapse back onto the couch.

“How long did it take you to tell him you loved him back?”

I stare at him.

“Kenma, I need a length of time.”

“A – a while, I guess. A few minutes. Maybe five?”

He grins at me. It’s his ‘problem solved’ grin. “So he said he loved you, and you, what, didn’t react at all? Stared at him? Fulfilled his worst nightmares and just looked at him instead of letting him know you loved him too?”

“I – I mean –”

“Is that a yyyyyyes?”

“Maybe.”

“Of _course_ he regretted it, he thought he’d just confessed his love to you and completely freaked you out. Why _wouldn’t_ he regret that?”

I look away.

“Listen to me. Okay. We’re bros by now, right?”

I nod. “’Course.”

“Not of course. Nothing is of course. But good. So. Bro to bro, I am telling you, Kuro loves you, he loves you so much it’s a little pathetic. Absolutely adores you. I promise.”

“He didn’t text me at all today.”

“Did you text him?”

I slouch. “No.”

“Well, then. Do _you_ not love _him_?”

“I do love him.”

“So. Don’t worry, Kenma. He loves you more than he loves, like, volleyball. He’d give up science if you asked him to. Trust me, Kenma, he loves you. If he has any regrets, it’s that he didn’t tell you sooner.”

I sigh. “I mean – I know, I guess. But – it – I forget.”

“Good thing I’m here to remind you, then, huh?”

I manage a smile for him. He’s – he’s good. “Yeah. I’m good now. Thanks, Koutarou.”

“Any time, Kenma.”

“Night, Koutarou.”

“’Night, Kenma.”

I head into my room without another word. I fold my clothes and put them away – Kuro doesn’t like messes. The bed still smells a little like him, but it’s not the same, it’s not the same. And tonight I don’t even have him on the phone, I can’t even listen to him breathe. I don’t have any of him, at all. It’s like he’s –

No. Koutarou said he loved me. Koutarou knows best. Koutarou said I have nothing to worry about. Kuro loves me, he loves me, he loves me.

And – I _do_ have something of him.

I get up and find his jacket. It’s big and comforting, and I don’t even play on my phone when I get into bed – I just pass out, wrapped up and warm.

Light hits my eyelids and disappears.

“Kenma?”

I’m here.

Something rustles, lands on the floor. Something like purring, faint and warm. The bed creaks.

Kuro?

“I’m back.”

The noise is good, the voice is good and then there’s something warm, heavy, comforting, lying over my body. Some small weight on my feet. Smell – the smell is good, right, comforting. Good.

Kuro is back, he came back to me, he loves me, he loves me. I fall back into a warm haze of sleep.

But when I wake up, there’s no one in bed with me.

Jesus.

I sigh and find my way out into the hallway, blinking against the sunlight streaming through the windows. The shower’s running. I’m too hungry to wait for Koutarou to get out – I’ll make breakfast. Make life easier for Koutarou. Although my pancakes won’t be anywhere _near_ the level his are on.

“Morning!” Koutarou says cheerfully as I step into the kitchen.

I blink at him.

He’s standing in front of the stove. His apron says “Owl cook for anyone who hoots nicely.” He’s flipping the last pancake onto a second plate. It’s all perfectly normal and it all makes absolutely no sense – why’s the shower running?

His smile slides off his face when he turns to face me and sees me staring at him. Then he blinks. Frowns. “If I’m _here_ , and you’re _there_ , then who’s taking a shower?”

In half a second he’s twisted the knob on the stove and following me down the hallway towards the bathroom. I wrench the door open.

“Kuro?”

“Oh _fuck_ , you’re letting in the cold air!”

“Kuro!”

“Hey, bro!”

“Is now _really_ the time? I’m only gonna be in here for, like, five more minutes!”

“Shit, sorry, don’t want you to get cold!” Koutarou says. He wiggles his eyebrows at me, shoves me inside, and closes the door.

I sigh and sit down next to the litter box. “Koutarou pushed me in and shut the door.”

He snickers. The curtain crinkles as he pulls it aside, just enough for me to see his face. “Wanna come in? The water’s fi-ine,” he drawls, giving me the smirk that got him the nickname _scheming captain_.

My heart leaps.

When he’s in front of me, looking at me the way Kei looks at Tadashi, the way Akaashi looks at Koutarou – I know he loves me. I know he does. I – it’s so obvious, how the hell was I so oblivious?

I get up and tug off my clothes. I guess I’m taking a shower this morning.

Kuro drags me into the tub and pulls me into his arms, wraps himself around me. That’s good. It’s always nice to know he’s missed me as much as I missed him. I lose myself in him for a long moment, happy to hug him as hard as he’s hugging me, happy to be in the place that’s been home for longer than any house I’ve ever lived in, happy to be in love with my best friend, happy.

But I have to know. “How is she?”

“Belle? She’s fine. Remember how my mom got a kitten? Belle wasn’t happy about it. So she doesn’t have cancer, she’s not dying, she just doesn’t like kittens.”

I sigh in relief. “Will your mom be able to make her behave?”

He shakes his head. “Apparently it’s hard, and it’s way more likely that Belle’ll just keep hating the kitten.”

“She – she won’t _hurt_ the kitten, right? Isn’t that – dangerous? For the kitty?”

“Probably, but my mom gave the kitten away.”

Oh, no, that’s sad. “I – I guess that’s the best solution, but – did she at least go to a good –” I break off. Was that –?

Kuro waits a minute. “Is there an end to that sentence?”

I ignore him and tug the shower curtain open. Either my eyes are lying to me, or – “Kuro?”

“Yeah?”

“Why is there a litter box in here?”

He smiles at me hopefully. “Well, the kitten had to go _somewhere_ , y’know?”

“You didn’t!”

His smile loses some of its energy. “Should I not have taken her? I guess I should’ve asked, but –”

“You got us a kitten! A kitten! You –” Nothing else makes its way out of my mouth. Words can’t get past the exclamation points in my head. I bounce on my toes and nod and pull him down so I can kiss him. Kuro got a kitten! A kitten!

Koutarou shrieks.

We break apart.

Kuro stares at me, wide-eyed, for half a second before we leap into action.

I jump out of the tub. He turns off the shower. I shove a towel at him and we skid out into the hallway and slide into the kitchen. Please, not another cockroach, not while I’m only wearing a towel.

“Guys! How the fuck did a cat get in here!” Koutarou asks, pointing at the little ball of golden fuzz in the corner between the fridge and the wall.

Oh! She’s so pretty! She’s so small! I dart forward to touch her, pulling back at the last second, offering my hand to her instead. She touches my hand lightly, all whiskers, and uncurls a little. She lets me pet her. Soft! I’m so jittery I can barely wrap my towel properly, but I manage it. Gotta calm down. She might get nervous if I’m too excited.

I let her smell me again, and she lets me lift her. She’s so little! She doesn’t mind being held at all! She just settles in, she doesn’t even care that I’m soaking wet! Oh!

“Jesus, Bro, all that over a cat?” Kuro is saying. “I was all ready to come in and blind a serial killer with the glory of my full frontal nudity –”

“Where’d she come from! If a cat can get in here, everyone else can too! Also, I nearly stepped on her.”

“She’s ours, I took her off my mom’s hands ‘cause Belle doesn’t like her.”

“What? We got a cat?”

“Yeah, do you mind?”

“Yeah, actually. Why do _you_ get to bring something else into this apartment, but I don’t?”

I look up. If Koutarou wants this kitten gone, he’s gonna have to pry her from my cold, dead hands. Actually, he’s going to have to pry them from my zombie self, because I will come back from the dead to keep this perfect, pretty, loving, kind, wonderful, _perfect_ animal with me. She’s so soft.

“Do you have a pet in mind? ‘Cause I don’t think we’re allowed to have dogs in the apartment. I don’t know about owls, though.”

Koutarou blushes and pulls himself up to his full height. “Actually, I do. Wait. Not a pet, though. A person.”

Kuro’s eyebrows climb. “Anyone we know?”

Koutarou pulls himself up even more, if that’s possible. He’s gonna get on the counter soon, just for the extra meter. “Yes, actually. His name is Akaashi Keiji and –”

“You want Akaashi to move in with us? Have you talked it over with him?”

He nods.

Kuro breaks into a grin. “’Course! What, did you think we’d say no?”

Koutarou looks at me. I shrug. “I like Keiji. He and I bonded over having to pull jackasses out of toilets.” And I’m already used to the idea. When did Kuro and I make our bet on how long it would take Koutarou to ask Keiji? How long did I think it would take? I know I had a shorter estimate than Kuro, but I don’t remember the exact period of time. Hmm.

Koutarou puts his hand over his heart. “He should’ve been happy. He was blessed with the beautiful sight of my flaccid dick.”

Kuro grimaces. I give Koutarou my disgusted look.

He shrugs. “What’s the cat’s name?”

I look at Kuro. Kuro looks at me. I raise my eyebrows at him.

“You can name her, my mom never decided on one.”

I look down at my pretty golden kitty, the second love of my life and the purest being I’ve ever known. “Aurora.”

“Aurora?”

“Belle, Aurora – Disney princesses?” Koutarou guesses.

I nod. “Hello, Aurora,” I whisper to my favorite kitty. “That’s your name. Do you like it?” She purrs. She hasn’t stopped purring. I love her. She is the dawn.

When I look at Kuro, he’s watching me, and his eyes are nearly as soft as Aurora’s fur.

“You like her?”

“I love her.”

Koutarou snorts. “I hope she sheds a little – Kenma’ll have a hairy chest for the first and last time in his life.”

Kuro snickers. I glare at them both. Aurora is the only one who truly accepts me for who I am.

Kuro steps forward, though, and bends to kiss my nose. He leans his forehead against mine. Aurora purrs, a small weight in my arms, soft and warm against my chest. He loops his arms around my waist, and I’m surrounded by him, his warmth, his scent, everywhere.

“You guys are gross,” Koutarou accuses, but Kuro just grins.

“It’s like he’s never seen himself and Akaashi together,” he murmurs.

“There are pancakes when you guys are done being gross.”

“Thank you, Koutarou.”

“You’re welcome, Kenma.”

Kuro kisses me and straightens. “All right, roomie breakfast time. Thanks, Owl.”

“Hear that, Aurora? It’s roomie breakfast time.”

She meows her reply, and Kuro and Koutarou are right there – “Make her do it again! Oh my _god_!”

I nuzzle her. “Breakfast? Do you know that word yet? Meow once for yes.”

She meows again.

“Cat whisperer,” Koutarou says reverently.

Oh, she’s beautiful. I love her.

“Also, did you guys wanna, uh, put on clothes? Before you eat breakfast?”

“Why bother?” Kuro asks, but I’m already on my way back into our bedroom. I didn’t mean to eat breakfast while soaking wet or naked and I can do something about both of those things, thanks to modern technology, like towels, and clothing.

Kuro follows me back, swooping in like an overgrown bat to grab me and kiss my neck. And then – he backs off.

“My mom said not to attack you, and I shrugged it off, but Christ, she’s right, I’m clingier than Velcro.”

“That’s – okay. I don’t mind.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re sure.”

“Yeah.”

Aurora and I get gathered up in a hug again.

“I’m gonna be absolutely _covered_ in cat hair,” he informs my scalp.

“Me too. It’s not an awful fate.”

“Gonna be hell to get it off, though.”

I set Aurora down. Koutarou was right – I have a hairy chest for the first time in my life. Kuro was also right, in that it’s absolute hell to get it off, but eventually we manage it – as in, I turn to face the wall and blush so hard the water nearly steams off of me, because Kuro has _no_ sense of modesty and I wanna eat breakfast eventually – and return to the kitchen fully clothed.

Koutarou grumbles as he sticks our pancakes in the microwave. Apparently we were gone a little too long. Aurora sits happily on my lap once I take my seat, which is adorable, but also, Kuro is whispering something to Koutarou, and Koutarou’s nodding, and Kuro’s smirking, and honestly, it’s a little bit worrying. I’m not asking, though. He’ll tell me when he’s ready.

“They won’t be as good as usual,” Koutarou announces as he sets our plates in front of us. “Since they’ve been microwaved.”

“We probably won’t be able to taste the difference,” Kuro reassures him.

“Are you comparing my pancakes to microwaved pancakes?”

I swallow a piece burning hot so I can come to Kuro’s rescue. “No, he’s just saying he’s got no palette or ability to discern tastes.”

“Oh.” Koutarou sits down and finishes off his own stack.

Kuro frowns at his pancakes for a minute, then leans towards me. “Did you just save my ass or insult me?”

I shrug.

He narrows his eyes at me, but eats his pancakes without a word of complaint.

I really, _really_ love him.

Back to the pancakes, though, ‘cause they’re really good.

Kuro takes my plate away while I’m still swabbing up the last of the syrup. I reach after him with my half-drenched piece of pancake.

“Watch out, it might drip –” Koutarou begins, but he falls silent when Aurora jumps out of my lap and pulls the whole piece of pancake out of my hand.

“It’s all hers.”

“Are cats allowed to eat pancakes and syrup?”

“I hope so.”

“That’s not reassuring.”

“They aren’t really,” Kuro chips in as he sticks the dishes in the dishwasher. “I mean, the one piece won’t kill her, and it was little, so she’ll be okay, but don’t do it on purpose, y’know? Anyway. Kenma. I have a present for you.”

Koutarou’s out the door, yelling about visiting Akaashi before Kuro even finishes his sentence.

I blink at him.

“He doesn’t know what it is, not really.”

I stare at him.

“Don’t leave the kitchen ‘til I call you.”

I nod cautiously.

I hear him head – into Koutarou’s room? Why –

And then Aurora jumps back up into my lap and starts purring, and, I no longer care what Kuro’s doing.

I jump when he calls my name, and so does Aurora, skittering from my lap to a corner to the counter to the top of the fridge.

“Hold on,” I call, and scoot the microwave next to the fridge and a chair next to the counter. Now she can get down when she’s ready and I can walk away without feeling guilty.

I walk into Koutarou’s room, but it’s empty. “Kuro, where…?”

“Our room,” he calls, and I smile a little. _Our_ room. Not just his. _Ours_. Not that I haven’t been referring to it as _mine_ for a good few days now, but.

The door’s open, and I walk right in, turn around, walk into the door, nearly walk out, then take a deep breath and strengthen my resolve, turn back around to face him, give up, and turn back around to walk out. All that indecision cost me too much time, though, because he’s sliding his hands around my hips, laughing a little and snorting, but _I’m_ not laughing, because he’s wearing white booty shorts and matching thigh highs with _lace_ at the top and I – I just – oh my god.

“Is this all right, love?” He murmurs.

My brain shorts out.

“Kenma?”

I flap my hands.

“I – new signals. Um. Snap once if okay, twice if not okay?”

I try. My fingers tell me it’s a shitty signal and I shouldn’t bother trying. I give up, turn around, grab his face, and kiss him.

“That –” he says, breathlessly – “I’m taking that as an okay?”

I nod.

“We should’ve worked out signals before, I completely forgot, I’m sorry.”

Yeah, okay, but that doesn’t change the fact that he’s standing in front of me in _that,_ Christ almighty.

I don’t have to be embarrassed. I’ve already screwed him, for God’s sake. This is _Kuro_. There’s no need for me to _be_ like this.

I take a careful step back, and then another. I take a deep breath and look at him.

I don’t know how to – I – _god,_ his thighs, the white lace against his skin, I –

He turns, slowly, and grins at me over his shoulder.

I didn’t even know how much I wanted to see his ass in booty shorts until I saw it.

I open my mouth, but nothing comes out, and I don’t think that’s gonna change any time soon. So instead of speaking, instead of trying to tell Kuro how – absolutely incredible, how perfect, how amazing, how – whatever – he looks, like this, I step forward and trace the lines of the lace against his skin, the hem of his shorts, the seams that run up the sides – he gets goosebumps wherever I touch his skin. When I meet his eyes, his pupils are dilated, jesus, fuck –

I fumble for my phone and pull up notes instead of a text. I don’t even want to _risk_ sending this to someone else. I make three typos, but I get it written eventually, by shortening it from _fuck me please holy shit_ to _can you top_ , no question mark.

“Are you sure? You’re not drunk, right? And don’t just do this ‘cause of me, I’m not topping unless you actually _want_ me to.”

I turn back to my phone. I should’ve stuck with my original message. _That_ was unambiguous.

_Yes I’m sure, no I’m not drunk, and trust me this isn’t just for you_

He reads it and grins at me. “As you wish.”

I jump on him, wrapping my legs around his waist, holding onto him so firmly he couldn’t pry me off with a crowbar. He kisses my neck and I shiver and hold onto him until – “You’re still wearing your pants, Kenma –” – and _then_ I let go, fall directly onto the bed, and get naked faster than I ever have in my entire life.

And then – and _only_ then – does Kuro start shimmying his shorts off.

I cover my eyes.

When I peek, I realize he’s _stopped_. Stopped! Why! I need to learn sign language so I can ask this!

“They’re not coming off unless you’re watching,” he says.

I –

Fuck.

I remove my hands from my eyes entirely.

He turns around so I can watch him shake his ass as he pulls the shorts off. I _hate_ those shorts. I _love_ those shorts. I have _issues_.

He grabs the lube and a condom, crawls into bed, and sits half a meter away from me. “Signals. Before we do anything else we need to come up with signals for ‘all right,’ ‘slow,’ and ‘stop.’ All ideas are welcome.”

I huff, but he’s right, and I wish we’d thought of this before ‘cause Kuro’s sitting right in front of me in _thigh highs_ and absolutely _nothing_ else, my Kuro, and how am I supposed to think in these conditions? I close my eyes.

I raise a finger.

“Got one?”

I nod.

“For all right?”

I shake my head.

“For stop?”

I nod and slap the bed twice.

“That it?”

I nod and raise another finger.

“Another? For slow?”

I nod and hold up my finger again, but with _emphasis_.

“So – just –” I open one eye just a crack. He raises a finger.

I nod.

“Cool. One more?” He shifts, a little uncomfortable, maybe, and – the urge to dive on him, settle between his spread legs, feel the cloth of his thigh-highs and –

Maybe I should top.

But then again –

The thought of him kneeling behind me, sliding into me, thighs outlined in lace, and –

Nnnnnnn _nnnnn_ one more signal, one more signal, Jesus _Christ_. Why didn’t I come up with these back when I was thinking straight? I close my eyes again.

“One more signal, kitten,” Kuro says, and his voice is so deep, so rough, I –

I _cannot_ come before we even get started. _No_.

I start working through a programming bug and ten seconds later I have no more erection.

“Um, Kenma, did you – still want – or –”

I pick up my phone.

_I had to concentrate on something else or this would’ve been over before it began_

“I – oh. Ohoho. Okay. Then. Take your time.”

I flatly refuse to meet his eyes. Screw him. I mean, that’s what I want to do, too, but. Just. Yeah.

I raise my finger.

“For all right?”

I nod and give him a thumbs up.

“ _Perfect._ Then we’re ready. If you still want to…?”

It takes one look to remember white thigh highs against his tan skin and, oh god, yes, I still want to. I give him a thumbs up, and he rolls over his shins and crawls the final few centimeters to me, grinning, ‘cause I’m blushing scarlet, ‘cause – _Jesus_.

He’s _mine_. Beautiful and kind and thoughtful and smart and sexy and mine, mine, my Kuro, and then he’s kissing me, tongue sliding between my lips, tasting sweet like syrup, and, God, pressing me backwards, into the pillows, into _our_ pillows, and I can feel smooth satin against my legs, and I think I’m getting a little lightheaded. He pulls away, reaching for the lube, flushed and panting, beautiful, _beautiful_ , lord, I love him, I love him, and when he comes back to me I stretch forward to tap his heart so he knows it.

He holds my hand against his chest. “I love you too, Kenma. So much.”

And then he puts the lube down.

  1. I have no words. What the fuck does he think he’s doing?



He rips open the condom, and then he bites the condom. He. Oh. Oh my god. He rips it right down the side, working it until it’s passably flat. And then he goes for the lube again, carefully only coating one side, and my brain starts shutting down, it is on its way out and I can’t stop it from going.

And then he flushes.

“I – Kenma, can I eat you out?”

He waits while my brain restarts.

When I hold my thumb up, he kisses it. He’s very gentle when he tugs me down a little flatter on the bed.

He scoots a little farther back. I don’t even notice that he put the makeshift dental dam in place for a second – he’s got his ass in the air and his head between my thighs and he’s grinning at me, it’s distracting – but the lube is cold and my distraction doesn’t last.

And then I’m biting down on my hand, whining around it anyway, because, he, his tongue – oh god, _god_ – circling me, pushing inside me, I – I, I want, to – to do this to Kuro, to – _Jesus_ –

I tighten my hand in his hair when he moves his mouth away, what is he doing, where is he going, why is he stopping – why is he laughing –

“Don’t pull my hair out, love, it’s important.”

I loosen my grip a little. He kisses my thighs, takes my skin between his teeth, lets his fingers roam, and ignores my tugging – my gentle tugging, very gentle – and I think he’s laughing at me. I don’t care. I want – I – I want.

He pulls back eventually, though, when I’m aching, whining, tugging a little less gently. He glances up at me and grins, because he’s a jackass, he’s my favorite jackass in the whole world, I love his stupid grin.

He tilts my hips up to get a better angle and then his tongue is circling me again, inside me again, and then I have to grab his hair and drag him away, staring at the ceiling so hard it should really just disintegrate, I don’t want to come, not yet, not – I moan when he puts his hand on me, and I arch up into him, I don’t want to but I can’t help it but it doesn’t matter, I can’t come, he’s holding me too tight –

“If you wanna orgasm now, give me a thumbs up. If not, give me the sign for slow.”

I hold up my index finger.

“Lemme know when you’re good to go. If you still want me to fuck you –” I shoot my thumb into the air and he grins – “then I’ll have to finger you open, are you okay if I keep you from coming the whole time?”

I hold my thumb up again. He leans forward and kisses it. “All right, then.”

He lets go of my dick and carries the dental dam to the trash. I watch him go, all muscle and grace and beauty, and he flushes when he turns and sees me staring, it’s adorable, he’s adorable, oh my god. When he sits down, though, between my legs, eyes roaming over me – he’s not flushing with embarrassment anymore.

He douses his fingers liberally with lube, rubbing his fingers together to warm it up, and, voice rough, says, “If it hurts, smack the bed, smack me, whichever comes to hand, and I’ll stop, okay?”

I nod.

“I’ll be gentle, and I’ll go slow, and I’ll do my best, but I don’t wanna risk anything tearing, so tell me.”

I nod twice and pull my knees up a little farther. He glances up at me with eyes blown so wide they’re almost entirely black, _fuck_.

The first touch of lube is warm. Doesn’t stop me from jumping a little, though, and Kuro freezes. I give him a thumbs up – I’m just sensitive. Right now. He leans forward and kisses the inside of my knee.

“Relax, okay?” He whispers.

I take a second to think about it, and, I’m tense. Why even bother? If it’s anything like his tongue, it’ll feel great. I take a deep breath and release my muscles. There’s no need for this.

He goes slow, probably slower than he has to, ‘cause it’s approximately three years before he even starts to slide his finger in, but – I’m glad he’s going slow. He was right, it does feel weird, and it’s – similar to his tongue, I guess, but – not exactly the same. I frown at the ceiling.

“You all right?”

I raise my thumb in the air.

“You’re sure?”

I raise my second thumb in the air. I hope he doesn’t ask again. I only have two thumbs.

“Okay.”

I put my thumbs down and continue frowning at the ceiling as he reaches his second knuckle.

I really should’ve expected this, probably – fingers are stiffer than tongues. And yet here I am, mildly shocked that it doesn’t feel great yet.

On the other hand, when I glance at Kuro, he’s still beautiful and he’s still in thigh highs, which _completely_ makes up for the weirdness of a finger up my ass.

He raises an eyebrow at me. I stretch my hand forward, realize that there’s no way in hell I’m gonna be able to reach him, and form my hands into the shape of a heart instead.

“Love you too, kitten,” he says as he starts sliding in a second finger.

I can’t help but grin at him. I can tell him I love him, as much as I want, whenever I want, all the goddamn time. Amazing.

And then he starts turning his fingers and I know for a _fact_ that I have never made such an ugly face in my entire face.

He stops and opens his mouth, but I hold up my thumb before he can ask, and he closes his mouth and continues on. I force myself to relax again. It’s – not – bad, I don’t think. It’s not even – weird, I guess. It might, maybe, sorta be bordering – all right? But it’s – it’s still – weird. And then he starts bending his fingers, and I know what he’s going for, but – okay, it doesn’t feel as weird as it could, but –

 _Christ_ , he found it, he found it, and, no, that is definitely good, that is – shit, I think _I_ made that noise – jesus, okay, not weird, not weird at all, holy _fuck_.

He closes his teeth on the inside of my knee, and honestly, it’s rude, to not even give me a chance to catch my breath. I can’t stop staring at him, though, so it probably doesn’t matter, ‘cause honestly, I wouldn’t be able to catch my breath while I was looking at him anyway – he’s flushed and panting and his hair is messy and he’s in lace and he’s sitting a little awkwardly ‘cause of his erection, and he’s beautiful. He looks up at me from under his eyelashes and my heart stops.

“I’m gonna start scissoring my fingers, okay?”

I nod.

It’s – not so weird anymore. Actually, it – I don’t regret my decision, anyway. At all.

“Still doing okay?”

I stick my thumb in the air.

“Cool.”

I frown at him. Cool? He’s got two fingers in my ass and it’s _cool_?

He grins at me and crooks his fingers and suddenly I have no objections to anything, at all, whatsoever, holy _shit_. Fuck. I – yeah.

I take a deep breath and remind myself yet again to relax when he eases a third finger in, slowly, and – not painfully. In unrelated news, I think I’m getting precum all over my own stomach, which is – unnecessary, to say the least.

He doesn’t talk for a couple minutes, but I can hear how hard he’s breathing – nearly as hard as _I’m_ breathing – and he’s got his free hand fisted in the sheets. Is he holding back, trying not to touch himself? ‘Cause, honestly, now I’m thinking about that – about him sprawled between my legs, masturbating, with three fingers inside me, and – I stuff my hand in my mouth. God, _god_ , I – I want – I –

He closes his hand around my dick, and I whine, but it’s better this way, even though my toes are curling and I don’t _want_ anymore I _need_ but –

“Are you good?” And _god_ his voice is rough, jesus – “Or should I keep stretching you out? One thumb for good, two thumbs for more fingers.”

I almost give up and tap out. _Two thumbs for more fingers_. He’s grinning. I give him a thumbs down.

“Oh, c’mon, that was a stroke of genius.”

I wiggle my thumb. Still a thumbs down.

“That is one thumb, though, right?”

I flip it to a thumbs up.

“All righty.”

He eases his fingers out, wipes them on a tissue, and rips open a condom.

I just –

Jesus.

He bites his lip when he rolls the condom on.

Thank you God, thank you Jesus, thank you to whoever and whatever gave me Kuro biting his lip as he prepares to fuck me, thank you, thanks, thanks so much, thank you for letting me be sexually attracted to him, thank you for making everything work out so well, thank you for whatever it is that makes him love me as much as I love him, I want you to know that I fully appreciate all of this and – oh oh _ohhhh god_ okay –

“Pay attention,” Kuro murmurs, grinning up at me, mouth hovering millimeters over my dick. He sticks out his tongue again and it’s practically a threat. I huff at him, but honestly, I’m not exactly breathing normally right now, he might not be able to tell.

“You good?”

I give him two thumbs up.

And then he starts kissing my stomach, kissing his way up my body, biting below my ribs, dragging his tongue over my skin, making my muscles twitch and leaving goosebumps in his wake and a hickey on my shoulder until he finds my mouth, and I can feel his dick rubbing against my thigh, and satin against my legs, and his soft hair under my hand and his tongue in my mouth and – and –

He reaches down, fingers grazing my stomach, and then I don’t feel him against my thigh anymore, he’s – oh. I tighten my grip on his hair and he freezes, watching me, waiting for a signal. I disentangle a hand from his hair and hold up my index finger. He nods, kisses my nose, and keeps going, slowly. I breathe as deeply as I can, trying to work through – the feeling of – I – oh, god, Kuro –

And then he stops, and I can feel his hips against my ass, and he’s kissing my face, and then he’s laughing, snorting – “Do you think I could do push-ups like this?”

No. No, I do not think that. I tug on his hair and his laughter turns into a moan, so here’s hoping he forgot all about that and will never bring it up again.

On the other hand, it _is_ kind of hilarious.

“You’re smiling, it’s funny and you know it,” he says, and I instantly school my expression back into one of annoyed disapproval. Who does he think he is, a jock? No push-ups. None. Thank you very much.

He knows me too well for that, though, and my facial expressions don’t phase him. He just laughs and kisses my forehead. “Ready to move whenever you give the signal, love.”

I take stock and decide that yeah, ok, I’m ready, and I hold up my thumb in front of his face. He goes cross-eyed trying to see it. I snort, and he laughs and kisses it.

“I’ll go slow.”

And he does.

He moves slower than I ever managed, and, god, _god,_ it feels – good, it feels good, and I – thank god he’s going slow or I’d be overwhelmed, I can’t help it, everything feels so – feels like so _much_ , it’s just – I bury my face in his neck, but that doesn’t help much, god, I can smell him, his scent is everywhere and it’s good, and I stick out my tongue and trail it over his neck and I can taste him, Jesus, and he lets out a truncated little whine and that was because of me, _me_ , I’m – proud, of making him make that noise.

He slides back into me and grinds his hips against me and I moan, I can’t help it, and Kuro laughs breathlessly so I squeeze around him and it feels good and his laugh turns into a whimper – and, god, he’s warmer than usual, the few centimeters of me that aren’t touching him feel cold in comparison, god, I need – more of this, more of him, I roll my hips up against him, but he’s not speeding up, Christ, do I have to beg –

I push up to meet him, and he makes a noise I want to replay for the rest of my life, oh god, Kuro, my Kuro. I find my way up to his mouth and bite his bottom lip, and he kisses me, his nose bumping my cheek, fuck, _fuck_ , he’s figured it out – we really need a signal for _quicker_ – and he’s speeding up a little, whispering my name, _whimpering_ my name, kissing my neck, resting his forehead against mine, and my hands escape his hair on their own and he whines when I drag my nails down his back and – I arch up towards him, Kuro, _Kuro, God, fuck, Kuro –_ and he stutters my name and shifts his weight over so he can free a hand and reach down between us, which, no, why, I don’t want that much space between us – but then he wraps his fingers around my dick and _oh god yes –_ Kuro, Kuro, Kuro – _Kuro please –_ and then my toes are curling and my thigh is cramping and then it doesn’t matter, I – I’m – _I’m_ –

I gasp in air as my heart rate tries to slow, but – Kuro’s still going, and I’m – oversensitive – it’s –

And then he bites my shoulder and goes tense for a moment – I dig my nails into his back – and – he’s done, slipping out of me, and then he collapses onto me with a “ _Kenmaaaaaaaaa_ ,” nuzzling his head against my chest with total disregard for the fact that his lube-covered condom is now sitting directly on the sheets.

I consider flicking him – it would involve taking my hands off him for half a second, though, and I don’t really want him to move, either, even if the condom is gross – but then he starts talking.

“I love you so much, you know that, right? Like, sometimes it hurts, I love you so much. I’m just – so glad you’re here. And you love me. I missed you. And kinda worried that maybe you didn’t love me. Which is dumb, ‘cause it was only a couple days, but I missed you and worried the whole time anyway, ‘cause I’m insecure. I – I’m still wearing the condom, aren’t I? That’s kinda gross.”

He heaves himself up and off the bed and stands there for a minute, swaying. He strips off the condom and walks out of the room.

I wait. He walked out ass-naked. He’s coming back. A giggle works its way out of my mouth.

And he comes back, of course, with a towel and two glasses of water.

I –

I put my hands over my eyes and start laughing. I can’t stop. It’s not funny, it’s really not, but here I am, laughing so hard I can’t breathe.

“What?”

I sit up. It takes me a minute, but I manage it, for Kuro’s sake. I pluck both glasses of water from his hand, down half of one, and put them on the bedside table. I take the towel from where it hangs conveniently on his arm, wipe down my stomach and the inside of my thighs, briefly contemplate burning the towel, remember the wonders of bleach, and throw it into the laundry basket. And then I pick up my phone, write _thank you for the room service_ , and show it to him.

He reads it.

I start giggling.

“That’s – that’s not – that’s not even a good joke, it’s not even a _bad_ good joke, it’s not even a joke, what –” but he’s laughing too, more at me than anything else, but – “It’s not even _funny_ –”

I nod. I know. I know! It’s not funny at all! But it doesn’t even matter, I can’t stop laughing. I laugh as I hand Kuro his glass of water. I laugh my way directly to the bathroom and all the way back, because the whole entire time I was sitting around agonizing about Kuro not texting me he was busy agonizing over me and we’re _idiots_ , we’re both idiots, we always have been and we always will be, Christ. I pull him down next to me so I can tap his heart and kiss his cheek and tap his heart again.

I reach for my phone. I should probably explain this to him. If Kuro laughed his ass off for ten minutes straight after having sex with me and listening to my heartfelt confessions of insecurity, I’d probably feel pretty shitty.

I hold up a finger to him and he nods, settling in to wait while I type out a nice, lengthy speech.

_So we trust each other in literally everything right but thEN we fall in love with each other and refuse to say a word!!!!! For like a decade!!!!!! And literally everyone else can tell, our volleyball team aka people who barely know us can tell, but the two of us, who know each other better than anyone, can’t tell at all. And THEN once we finally know, even though we feel safe with each other, even though we’re best friends, we STILL won’t tell each other when we miss each other cause we’re IDIOTS, we’re fucking idiots, I was so worried when you didn’t text me all day and I missed you so much and I went to bed last night at like 10 instead of just texting you and you were busy doing the same fucking thing, we have to get out of this habit it’s STUPID_

I hand it over. Kuro frowns at it.

“So what you’re saying is, you also missed me yesterday?”

I nod.

“And, maybe, were you, perhaps, also a little insecure about it?”

I nod and take my phone back.

_Koutarou had to give me a talking-to._

He reads it and laughs. “He’s been doing that a lot, recently. Trying to make us get our lives together.”

_Never!_

He rolls on top of me, sniggering into my neck. “As long as I’m with you, our lives can fall to pieces and I won’t care. Well, okay, maybe a little, but – I’m getting off-topic here. I agree, we have to stop waiting for Bo to talk sense into us. Still don’t get why it was funny, though.”

I shrug. It was ironic.

_I love you_

“I love you too, kitten,” he says, but as soon as he says it, Aurora herself nudges the door open and peeks around it, and that is _hilarious_. I mean, it’s really not, but also, it absolutely _is_. She _answered_. She answered to _kitten_.

“Do you wanna take a nap?”

I nod and I try to stop laughing, but it doesn’t work. I just end up snorting. Of course, that makes _him_ laugh, so at least I’m not laughing alone anymore.

I roll him off me and curl up against him, slipping an arm over his waist. He runs his fingers through my hair and sighs.

Aurora jumps on the bed and worms her way into the space between me and Kuro, a tiny little furball who doesn’t care that her owners are stupid. Anyway, things worked out for _us_ , in spite of everything, so maybe she thinks things will work out for her if she sticks close to us.

Kuro presses his lips to my hair and rubs my back. I kiss his arm, ‘cause it’s the closest thing to my face that isn’t covered in cat fur.

I hear it when his breathing slows down, and when Aurora stops purring in favor of sleeping. Koutarou and Keiji won’t be back anytime soon. The apartment is silent, peaceful, and I’m surrounded by Kuro, and when I slip into sleep, I don’t bother dreaming. I’ve already got everything worth dreaming about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is how I feel waving goodbye to the fic that took up like 5 months of my life: [x](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=81QGGx7MMJg)
> 
> and in case anyone was curious, the title of this fic came from [a song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=07cc8856GGQ) by... drumroll... The National, shockingly enough. i didn't wanna link it at the beginning cause it's literally about a guy who realizes too late that he gave his friend shitty advice, which is literally the opposite of what this fic is about, and would be very misleading.
> 
> thank you all for reading and commenting and leaving kudos, I love you all and hope the ending lived up to your expectations!!!!! <333 :3c

**Author's Note:**

> me when I started writing this: it's gonna be short, shorter than my IwaOi fic, probably around 10k. I just don't have as many headcanons for KuroKen, yknow? So it's harder to write.  
> me at 56k: I Am A Liar and I Sincerely Apologize For This Deception
> 
> EDIT:  
> me when I realized this thing was getting long: nah it'll never reach 60k lol there's no way, 50k is all I can aim for  
> me at 60k: I Am A Liar and I Sincerely Apo


End file.
